Blamed
by Lushard
Summary: The war with Plegia has ended. It is supposed to be the era of peace, of rebuilding. But for the new Grand Master of Ylisse and the new commander of the Pegasus Knights, peace doesn't mean rest. Ch. X - Epligoue.
1. Chapter 1

A Fire Emblem fanfiction by Lushard. The cover of this story can be found on deviousxgirl deviantart.

* * *

_This is the 634th day of my stay in Ylisse. 17 months after your passing._

_It is the memory of your words that made me pick up the quill and write this entry__.__To help me recover my lost memories, you said, and to preserve the new ones I make in this world._

_I never had the courage before__... It is__ only after I found your writing in the royal journal kept in the castle that I __could make the decision to share with you my dreams and days._

_But I__ do__ wonder…what good __would__ lost memories serve when I can't forge new ones with you?_

* * *

**Chapter 01**

**Departure**

* * *

This was a checkmate.

Was it?

Robin leaned in nearer to the wooden chessboard, examining the last pieces that were still left standing. Five blacks. Two whites. The white ones constituted only of a Knight who was quite far away from the King it was supposed to protect. The Black Queen seemed as if it was towering high over the two white pieces, full of pride of her power as it stood in a position so strategic that it could hack off either the King or the remaining Knight with ease.

It _was _a checkmate.

Strange. Robin circled his table, hand moving deliberately to his chin. He had moved the White Army so delicately as to draw them closer and ambush them with the Ministers. His original plan had backfired it seemed. But how? He was sure the new tactic would work—would at least deplete the enemy of its highest ranking generals. Had his imrpovisations messed things up?

A knock on his door roused him from his thoughts. "Rob," his Lord and friend's voice called from outside of the dimly lit room. "May I come in?"

Robin straightened up as he eased his stiff muscles. "Please do, Your Majesty."

The door swung open and Chrom, wrapped in royal linens of blue, walked in. He stopped a few paces away from Robin's table, unable to go further due to the papers and books that were littering the floor. Should a new guard or servant come into this room unarmed with the knowledge of the occupant, one would certainly think that the room was a silent witness to a robbery attempt.

Robin turned to give a slight bow to the royal. "Excuse my appearance. You did come at an ungodly hour," he said. He was dressed in simple trousers and shirt which he had slept and worked in for the whole day. Well, as far as he knew, his definition of 'efficiency' and 'time management' had rarely been positively received by those around him. Being one of the few souls who had known him the longest, Robin suspected that Chrom's raised eyebrows and brief silence meant that he too failed to understand said definition.

"I did, so no worries there," the young Lord said as he stepped cautiously around. "You might also want to drop the formality when we're alone like so many times I have told you."

Sleepy eyes were closing. "Yo. 'Sup, Chrom?"

"Something less extreme would be better, thank you. And I think I have given you this privilege of having servants to help keeping your room in order." There was that despairing look that he often gave him at the start of meetings. "That's what servants in the castle are for, you know. I didn't hire them just to empty pots and mop the floor."

Robin brushed the notion away with a movement of his hand. "Servants will only mess things up."

"_Mess _things up? Then what do you call _this_?" Chrom asked, emphasizing the whole room that was literally covered in literatures and strange gears of Robin's own making.

"An organized chaos."

Chrom shook his head, stifling a laugh. His eyes fell upon the chessboard on the table. "And what were you doing at this 'ungodly hour,' as you put it?"

Robin sat perched on the edge of his table. Even without the help of a mirror, he knew his eyes would look quite bleary and his silver hair tousled. "Trying to defeat myself. Figuring out a new strategy in hopes of finding a better one from the current ones I've stored in memory. No admirable progress so far, if you would like to know of the result. What about you? What brought the Lord of Ylisse to his humble subject's chambers in the middle of the night?"

Carefully as to not step on his friend's belongings, Chrom made way to a nearby chair and sat on it. "We've just received a report from the border far north."

"Another bandit attack?"

"Yes. Three villages in the north fell victim to it."

Instantly the strain on his shoulders felt as if it had doubled up. He pulled his eyebrows down into a frown and his eyes narrowed at the space between him and his friend. "Ferocious. Unusual for them."

"Unusual or not this situation calls for a swift departure. We can't let them linger for long. Especially not with the Risen threatening to appear at any time now that their blades have spilled blood."

"I know. You'll send men to route them?"

"I was planning on going there, actually," Chrom said as he picked up a gear sitting close to his feet that was Robin's best attempt at clock construction. "I won't be joining the hunt, but I need to let the villagers know that their Exalt cares for them."

"Wise decision, I suppose. The morale of the people has just been risen from the birth of the royal baby. You'd be foolish to let it drop."

"I know. We will only join the soldiers halfway. We will stay for a night or two to deliver the ransom ourselves and strengthen the defenses."

Robin narrowed his eyes at that. "_We_?"

Chrom ignored the look Robin was giving him, and his relaxed stance told Robin that his friend had come without any intention to debate. Her wife, the Queen, Sumia, had just delivered their first child three months ago, indicating the beginning of the peaceful era many had waited long to come—no matter how brief it may last. The royal baby's birth had called for celebrations; bards had come to the castle presenting their songs of the prosperity Lucina's birth entailed, and many gifts from peasants and nobles alike had showered the royal couple even after weeks passed by. It was very understandable, the widespread glee... The recent clash with Plegia had demoralised the people. Although Ylisse had ended up victorious, the sacrifice the halidom had to pay was of a high price and it would forever be a stain in its history.

Gingerly, Chrom put down the unfinished clockwork on the floor. "Sumia will come with me. She insists. She will be fine as I know we will all be, just like the old days. And plus, this isn't in any way a grand mission whatsoever."

"Grand or not, a long travel is bound to be tiring for a mother who's just—" Robin abruptly stopped and let his shoulders sag. If he knew his friend half as well as he thought he did, then he'd bet that further attempts in persuation would never appeal to him. "I'm never going to convince you two, aren't I?" he chanced to ask.

"I'm afraid not. Not in this kind of matter."

"There are so many better alternatives than this. Well. A small revision: not many, but I can certainly see quite a few if you'd kindly sit there and listen."

Robin was being himself, and so was Chrom. It was his forte and job as a tactician to concern himself over the smallest detail and every possibility an option could lead to, but even the most intricate of plans and carefully worded advice would worth nothing if they fell on deaf ears. "You know what you're good at, Rob," Chrom said, and Robin saw it as a feeble attempt loosen him up. "Do that and victory will be assured."

He sighed in defeat. "Your wish is my command, I guess. When will you leave?"

"Tomorrow morning."

Robin winced. "Reasonable. Though unkind on a sleepless few."

"Blame the late reports. Either way we shall march before dawn. You'll be in charge of the matters here while I'm away. You shall presume the title of Grand Master starting from tomorrow."

"Understood. Just be sure to bring enough Winged Riders with you."

"I've notified them."

They both fell silent. A comfortable, knowing silence that only those who had been fighting side by side for years could share.

"A lot's changed," Chrom remarked finally. His gaze rested on the small oil lamp that was illuminating the room in a weak orange shade before travelling back to Robin's face. He was wearing a tired, vacant expression that many had commented upon in these last few months. "You have too, Rob. What's troubling you?"

"Tactics. Strategies. Plans. Your halidom. Your stubbornness."

Chrom waited.

Robin opened his mouth to prolong his list or throw in another remark about how overly worried Chrom was, but promptly closed it again. When he spoke, his voice was hollow and he let his gaze linger on the unfinished clockwork on the floor. "The past."

It was truth, yet it also felt like a child's poor trial in lying. For some, the past was something they could look at with fondness, a place where they could visit to draw strength whenever they felt pressured by the present. For others whom the reality had not been as kind, it was a dangerous place full of regrets and hurt, a territory some had told him they were glad they had traversed through. But for him, it was simply a blank note full of question marks and his own endless list of what-ifs.

Chrom seemed to see his hesitation to elaborate. In a softer voice, he said, "You still can't remember a thing."

It wasn't a question. Robin had carried only his clothes and name with him when Chrom had found him on a field of grass three years ago. Chrom once told him he still remembered how confused Robin had been, how at times when he'd thought no one would notice, his glance would become vacant as they traveled to faraway places his memories could not name.

"I've been remembering bits and pieces, lately," he said, trying to control his voice and avoiding his friend's gaze. "But everything is insignificant. Haphazard images, voices I don't recognize, lands I have yet to set a foot on." He closed his eyes and rubbed them. "Sorry. I'm just tired."

"Just know that you can always share your burden with me. I am your friend before I am your lord. That fact won't change. If only you'd heed my advice for once and stop overthinking now…"

One end of Robin's mouth twitched humorlessly. "Oh yeah, remind me again why there's been no successful attempt of assassination at the castle."

"Hey, any hideous attempts on me have failed—"

"Exactly because I overthink matters," Robin cut in. "And still you will not rethink your decision about allowing your wife to go with you."

He did not like the grin that was spreading on Chrom's face. "At least we share one same trait on stubbornness."

"But she could get killed, Chrom," he tried to press on. "She would be fatigued more easily and—"

Chukling, Chrom stood up. "I'll hear no more of this, friend." As he made his way to the door, he turned to look at Robin. "Stop worrying over small things and just prepare for whatever you need to prepare. We will be counting on you."

The door swung shut and Chrom walked away. He would never hear his friend sigh and mutter, "Worrying over small things is what's precisely in my job description, you oaf."

* * *

\- A -

* * *

The dawn arrived too soon for Robin's liking but he dragged his feet to the gates all the same. As the Grand Master of the realm, he would need to see the royal party before they went.

Chrom and a small group of his own choosing had been assembled. Tens of Pegasii and an ominous looking Wyvern—he never understood why one would go far lengths to _tame _such a beast, let alone ride one—had also gathered, with bags and travelling equipments strapped on their sides. The horses were maintaining a good distance from the pack of beasts. Carriages of supplies had been lined up, a carriage of ornate design containing baby Lucina was among them.

Stahl was the first to give Robin a greeting by means of a slap on the back. "Wake up, Tactician," he said as Robin felt the air leaving his lungs in a cough. "Or do you only respond to your new title now?"

"Spare me your jokes. I only got three hours of rest," Robin said. He nodded at the others, and at Sumia's beaming smile he almost cringed. "Nice to see you in good health, Your Grace."

The Queen of Ylisse, who was clad in her knight armor, smiled. A sweet smile that told nothing of the clumsy person she was underneath. "I heard about your concern over my well-being, Rob. That's very thoughtful and sweet of you, but I will be fine, thank you. To be truthful, I've never felt better."

Robin chanced a look at a scarlet-haired woman who was standing beside the Queen; the only person whose expression was mirroring his own. "I assume your good counsel had also been dismissed, Lady Cordelia?"

"I'm afraid so," replied the Pegasus Knight. Her armor had been polished, Robin saw, and her lance had a new carving on its oiled blade. If there was any other person whose life was solely dedicated to her job the same way Robin was to his, it would be Cordelia. To reward her of her servitude in the last campaign, she had been bestowed upon the rank of a general in the Shepherds as well as the leader of the mounted knights Chrom had managed to unite under his banner. On missions with the royal family she would be the one to be tasked with the responsibility of protecting and attending to Sumia if no other knights were with her.

Robin felt the slightest bit of relief at the thought of Cordelia marching beside the Queen. He knew the knight would do everything necessary to keep the royals safe.

Chrom said to Robin, "I'll keep you informed through the doves."

"That you do."

To Cordelia: "I shall leave the capital's defenses to you and the knights, Cordelia."

"What?!" Robin exclaimed, perplexed. His eyes darted between Chrom and Cordelia; the latter's face was grim and unaccepting.

With eyes still trained at Chrom and Sumia, Cordelia spoke in a bitter tone, "Apologies, Grand Master. It seems that I have also failed to convince them to bring me along. The royal family insisted that I remain to watch over the capital, no matter how I tried to persuade them otherwise."

Chrom merely smiled. "None could be entrusted with the task but you, at least in my opinion. Frederick and Stahl will march with me, and I'm certain they're capable commanders and warriors. Or do you think lowly of my judgement, Cordelia?"

Instantly the Pegasus Knight's face changed. Fear seeped first into those scarlet orbs, then they were drained out of any emotions, a mask of placidity taking over, all happening in a blink of an eye. No one seemed to have noticed but Robin—who had been paying close attention to her demeanor. An old habit of his.

"No," she said, bowing her head as strands of hair curtaining her face from view. "Or course not, Your Grace. I never did."

"I'm glad. Now then." Chrom turned to Robin and patted his shoulder. "Stay sharp, my friend."

He thought of some objection, of anything to rebut, of any reason of logic so Chrom would add more members to his party, but knew his fears were unreasonable. The city of Ylisstol needed as much men as Chrom did and more to ensure its safety from prying eyes. In the end all he could do was managing a curt reply. "And you."

Chrom issued the order to mount and the knights and soldiers did as they were told. Cordelia, Robin and the few officers of Ylisstol who went to see them off gave a salute, and off the royal party went, leaving Robin with a heavy heart.

He was not fond of the idea of being parted from his friend, disliked the many possibilities of danger that seemed to always tail the royal blood of Ylisse wherever they went. He had failed a royal family member once. He would see that he wouldn't commit the same error.


	2. Chapter 2

_This is the 637th day of my stay with the Shepherds. Of the days before I met you I could hardly remember._

_As I read your writing, I am often plagued by the thoughts of many possibilities that could have happened._

_Foolish of me, I know, especially since one is powerless to change the past. But still, I could not help but to let my imagination wander sometimes._

_What would it be like to have you here, with the people you loved dearly? To converse with you now that the peace you fought so hard for has been attained? Would you smile the way you did when I first met you? Would you sit beside me, read with me, laugh with me?_

_Hope gives strength, you said. But then I found that it is not all that it does._

_Hope also scars the heart._

* * *

**Chapter 02**

**Insomnia**

* * *

Three days had passed since the royal family had taken their leave to show their support to the villages up north. The castle's atmosphere had not changed as much; the same old routine, the same old business were carried about. Life within and outside the palace of Ylisstol had scarcely changed, no, not since a year ago when the current commanding royal had first ascended to the throne. Changes had been quite drastic then, and with the upcoming war with the Plegians, they had been made almost too swiftly for anyone's liking.

Now that there were no wars to prepare for, routine and business for the current commanding officer of the Pegasus Knights often translated as a mountain of paperwork and drafts that seemed to have no end. This day was no different than the previous ones; a typical busy day, with stacks of report papers and scrolls to be scanned, letters to be stamped, and orders to be issued. Some parts of the city and a few villages surrounding the capital were still under construction after the last Risen attack a few weeks prior, and the army was seeking new recruits, calling in the young and capable to sign up to take up arms to defend their home against threats of more attacks.

"…And so that about sums up the report from the patrolling knights," a recruit was saying.

Cordelia nodded rather absently as her mind began to tire. "Thank you," she said, "you can go now."

The recruit saluted and disappeared as soon as she had come. Pity, Cordelia thought, that the papers on her desk did not have the same speed to walk out of sight like the recruit did. There were at least two dozens of reports she had yet to read, all detailing activities such as the process of enlistment, training, and numbers of soldiers that had to be rotated off the borders. Fortification called for more spear and sword hands, and more hands called for a hectic schedule. There were still new training sessions to be planned, new routes to mark, and oh-gods-so-many more things she couldn't possibly list in one piece of paper. This was an oddity in itself; she usually enjoyed being busy—for it kept her mind preoccupied, preventing it from wandering into topics of the heart. But this... This was too much. Stahl and Frederick… How terribly missed were those two.

Before her stamp could meet the surface of a parchment that was lying before her, another recruit entered her working quarter with a fresh bundle of papers. "Excuse me, Commander. These are the reports from the northern borders."

Yes, this was it.

"Put them on the table." Cordelia stood up from her chair, ready to leave the office that had begun to feel too small for her to breathe in. "I'll read them after lunch."

She exited the room and but did not head to the mess hall for lunch like she used to. She opted to grab a loaf of bread in the kitchens instead, consuming it in mere seconds without even sitting in one of the long tables. Soon, she found her feet carrying her to climb the staircase leading to the west wing where the gardens were.

The sun was high and was shining bright when she stepped out of the building, but she welcomed the change in atmosphere all the same. The air, crisply fresh and clean, smelled of grass and was giving a soothing feeling that her confined space could never provide. Well, her time within the castle walls was mostly spent in the barracks, giving orders or devising training modules for recruits, and so, she could rarely take outdoor breaks like this. Inhaling slowly as to cleanse her constricted lungs, she decided that to be out of that office of hers was indeed a good decision.

Slowly she paced around the gardens. There were only a few people who chose to spend their midday break here, and for the serenity she was grateful. Summer was ending, and some of the leaves had turned orange and red, creating a patchwork of colors that was uniquely beautiful. Autumn had always held some magic, she believed.

"Taking a walk, My Lady?"

At the voice that came from behind her she almost jumped. Turning, she found the new Grand Master of Ylisse standing a few paces away from her.

He held up a hand in apology before she could properly greet him. "Didn't mean to surprise you," he said.

"No, it's quite all right," she said. The grass must have muffled his footsteps or she had simply missed them altogether.

Robin inclined his head, clasping his hands behind him. He was not wearing his usual dark cloak that was often draped around his lofty figure. Cordelia also noticed that there were dark circles around his eyes. "I presume that you plan to spend your break time here. May I accompany you?" he asked.

"Yes, of course."

They walked toward a nearby bench and sat.

"You look rather tired," observed Robin, giving her a sideways glance.

"And pardon me for saying, but _you_ look as if you haven't slept at all, Sir."

"I've got little to none," he admitted.

Cordelia acknowledged it with a sympathetic smile, having passing by him in the hallways every once too often these days. "I can imagine. It takes days to get used to a new position."

Robin stifled a yawn. "True. But days for you might be weeks for me."

She brushed the comment aside with a humble shake of her head, then she promptly fell silent, not knowing where she could steer the conversation into. Robin didn't seem to mind nor did he seem disturbed at the lack of topic. The man just rested his elbows on his knees and closed his eyes, strands of silver hair falling to his face.

Strange. There were not so many people who assumed a stance that relaxed around her.

But then again, who was she to judge him? Yes, she had known the man as the master tactician of the Shepherds, the best friend of Chrom's, and now the Grand Master of Ylisse, but apart from those titles that even street kids would have known, she knew almost nothing about him. For all it was worth, she had barely conversed with him during their days of fighting save for the occasional greetings and idle chat whenever they met in the barracks or the supply tent.

Some people spoke highly of him, praising his intuition and tactics that brought about the victory of the Shepherds over the Plegian Army. Some, though, were distrustful: stating that with his origins unknown and his case of amnesia, he could be as well as plotting behind Chrom's back and seeking to seize glory for himself. Cordelia had harbored the same thought of suspicion after learning the man's background story at first. But soon that suspicion turned into respect, as she had seen with her own two eyes what the man was capable and of what deeds he had done to aid her Lord in his conquest to end the reign of the Mad King.

But looking at him now, all sleepy and ready to doze off on the bench, she didn't know what to think of the young Grand master. For all the accounts of his genius and esteem, he seemed just like any ordinary young man who was sleep-deprived because of his work.

And there was also that foreign mark on the back of his right hand. A mark of the accursed, many said. It was visible to see since his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. A daring movement, she supposed. It might be a yell to dubious minds that he was as unknowledgeable of the mark just like they were, a statement that other than having the mark just like any adorning tattoo that was a part of his skin, he had no other motives nor answers regarding said mark.

"Think I can steal a nap?" he murmured without opening his eyes.

Cordelia blinked at the sudden question. "Here?"

He nodded. "Please wake me up when lunch time is over." With that, his head plopped down, and his consciousness was lost.

She could have just left him. She could have told a stationed guard to do his bidding. But to her own mild surprise she found herself sitting beside the sleeping Grand Master, waiting for an hour to pass before shaking his shoulder gently to rouse him from his slumber.

* * *

\- A -

* * *

The content of Chrom's letter spoke mostly of what he had predicted upon reading the status report from mounted knights and studying the map of the northern area. The bandits had taken two of the central villages. Chrom's assault party had approached the designated area where Robin had planned for them to stop and split up into three groups. Two would attack from the south and the east. One group of Pegasii Knights would fly across the cliffs surrounding the north part of the village and launch a surprise attack from there.

If all goes according to plan, the first village would be re-seized in less than a fortnight. The second one would come down soon. If he had not miscalculated anything, that was.

Robin folded the letter and threw it upon the pile of papers on his desk.

He looked out of his window and saw the moon dangling in the blue-cobalt sky. It was almost midnight, and yet, he found himself unable to rest.

He sat on his bed, eyes trailing to the floor, hands latched together. Whenever he closed his eyes his mind would drift to Chrom. Always to Chrom and Sumia and Lissa. To the royal family he owed his debts to, his first friends and allies.

Ah, and he must not forget about baby Lucina too, for the royal family had grown.

Those four… He needed to make sure that those four stayed alive and well.

Three of them were miles away, and as usual, the burden of being separated from them nagged at the corner of his mind like an insistent beggar. He hated how his mind would ponder through all the worst possible scenarios.

_No more failures_, he had vowed to himself and to the deceased.

_No more deaths_.

As time dragged on and his fatigue caught up with him, he contemplated the idea of strolling through the gardens and sleeping on a random bench. It might not be a terrible idea… At least he _had_ been able to steal a nap there last noon. Maybe it had been the good breeze, maybe it had been the calming scent of approaching autumn… For whatever reasons he couldn't fathom, he _had _dozed off in the royal gardens, managing to steal a blissful one-hour rest that he rarely could enjoy. Hardly an exaggeration it was, for he'd count one hour of an undisturbed rest as a miracle in his insomniac days.

Would he be able to once again if he went there, he wondered. He could wrap himself with a blanket to fight the night wind. He could find a long bench to stretch, or simply curl himself under a tree until sleep found him. Gods, how good would it be able to fall asleep so easily like he had in the noon..!

_Idiot_, he quickly reprimanded himself. 'The Grand Master is found sleeping in the gardens' would sure become a laughing stock for days if not weeks. 'Had the Prince provided him not with a sleeping quarter of his own that he had to migrate to the gardens?' Yeah, he could already picture what gossips would spring from the naïve action all right. Shaking his head, Robin got up and opened a nearby drawer by the bed.

Inside was a single bound leather book, trimmed with golden and silver lines. There was no title on the cover. Robin drew it and began flipping through the pages, searching for the last page where he'd left the night before as he sat back on the mattress, jostling it under his weight. Familiar hand writing in black and blue ink jumped from the pages. It was eloquent as much as he found it beautiful, two descriptive words he would use also to praise the content of the journal.

Mentally, he repeated the same apology he wished the author could hear each night. He brought the author's name into prayer before he immersed himself in the writing.

* * *

\- A -

* * *

"No, Lissa dear, that dress won't do. Red does not go well in this kind of activity."

Lissa looked at the red, short-sleeved dress in her hands and pouted. "Aw, that's too bad. This newly tailored dress is super-cute."

Maribelle shook her head, blond curls swaying elegantly as she clicked her tongue. She took the red dress from an unwilling Lissa and deposited it into the arms of a servant. "No, dear. An act of charity calls for a subtler color as to not raise any eyebrows," she said to Lissa's reflection in the mirror.

"Hm. What do you suggest then?"

"Green. It should prove to be an excellent choice for today."

Lissa glanced at a leave-green dress a servant was carrying and shrugged. Her friend may have a point. She was to go to the villages west of the capital to bring provision. A simple act to keep the people's spirits up after the news of the Risen and bandit raids sprang up.

"I'll wear it then. But I'll have _that _bowtie over there," she said as she pointed to a white bow that was in another servant's hands.

"Fine," her friend sighed. "It goes well with the color of the dress, I guess."

The door to her chambers was knocked and a guard posted outside announced the visit of the new Grand Master. "Might I come in, Princess?" Robin's voice carried over.

"Of course."

Robin entered the room with long strides. He gave Lissa a bow and nodded to Maribelle. "Good morning, Princess Lissa. My Lady."

Maribelle curtsied, followed by the rest of the servants in the room. "Good morning, Grand Master."

"Morning, Rob!" Lissa chirped. "I see that you're not fond of your new cloak."

Robin flashed a tired smile. He shrugged, looking way too casual for someone of his rank in a simple collared shirt and dark trousers. "I fear that it's too grand and heavy to be worn inside the castle, Princess. The tailor has not re-designed it to better fit my size anyway. The measurements he's taken seem to fit an image of a fat, cranky old man."

Lissa giggled at the thought. "Yes. Well, the wearers of the cloak before you might be just that. Old, fat and cranky. You might become like that too in time."

"Ah, don't feed my imagination with such notions, please. But anyhow, I don't think it is likely to happen: I'm sure Lady Maribelle here would gladly prevent that."

"You can be sure of that," said Maribelle with a curt nod. "Appearances matter, after all. One can never rely on brains alone to govern. Now before I launch into a long speech of looks and health, Rob dear, may you tell us what is it that you wish to consult with us?"

The little smile he'd been wearing disappeared from his face. Instantly Lissa was reminded that this was the person who had brought most if not all the victories to Ylisse, the tactician who had given the realm the peace it knew now. He looked taller somehow, and his eyes grew a shade colder. "It is regarding your schedule for today, Princess," Robin began. "The original plan was to have you go tour four villages west of Ylisstol. I'm afraid I have to restrict it to none."

"What?" Lissa exclaimed. "Why?!"

"As much as I understand how you'd love to show your people how much you care about them, your safety needs to be addressed first. The bandits and the Risen that are terrorizing the land are no mere rumors. There is a chance that your party might be ambushed on the way."

"But—the villages are quite near to each other! The routes have been scouted and the patrols—"

"The patrols can't possibly predict when the Risen will appear and where," Robin cut in. Lissa flinched at the words. "I'm sorry, Lissa," he said in a gentler voice. "I'm afraid the safest place for you to be is behind the walls of Ylisstol for the time being."

Lissa looked at the green dress Maribelle had picked, then at Robin, whose blue eyes were shadowed and was tight-lipped. "It doesn't really have to be like this…" she tried to reason. Deep down, she knew his objections were right, that, yes, the Risen _could _appear anywhere and anytime, and they could ambush them off guard… But still…! The _whole_ Ylisse was in the state of unrest because of the recent attacks! "Rob, please consider this again. This is the least I can do as a royal! I can… I can bring more guards with me...!"

"She's right," Maribelle interjected. "There should really be no worrying over our Princess' safety if we have enough sword hands with us."

"I'm sorry, ladies, but no. As you all well know, we cannot afford to lose the men defending our capital right now that Chrom and Sumia are absent. Any thinning in our defenses would turn predatory eyes upon us." There was this note of finality in his tone and Lissa knew that when Robin used it, not even Chrom would dare to further entice.

Eyes downcast, Lissa slowly nodded. "I…understand." She did. She truly did. She just couldn't quench the disappointment that was weighing down her heart.

A guard's voice informing the arrival of the head of the Pegasus Knights penetrated the silence that was hanging in the room. The door opened and permitted entry to Cordelia. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop," she said as she nodded to Lissa, Maribelle, and Robin, "but I'm afraid I have to object to your plan, Grand Master."

Robin regarded the intruder with a skeptical look that he didn't bother to hide. Cordelia stood close to Maribelle and Lissa, her poise challenging and firm and yet at the same time, graceful—something Lissa had always envied of the older woman. Her whole demeanor was uttering a confident aura only a seasoned warrior would possess.

Robin spoke slowly and lowly, "And why is that, Lady Cordelia?"

"Because what the Princess said is true," she said. There was no hint of sarcasm or any cockiness in her voice. It was a matter-of-fact tone: flat, light with truth, not meant to offend. "The people is in the state of unrest. Maybe those who live under solid roofs and behind stone walls are not greatly affected by the ominous news about bandit or Risen attacks, but those who do not live in fear. The garrisons and wooden towers stationed in and around the villages won't be enough should a party of those undead spring up."

Robin opened his mouth to say something, perhaps to rebut her case or point out a flaw in her arguments, but Cordelia held up a hand politely. "Fortification may answer some of these problems," she said, "and if we're lucky, the additional numbers of soldiers-in-training I've managed to gather from the villages would prove to be useful not only in defending but repelling the enemies. The bandits, at least. But swords and arrows are not the only things that put people's minds at ease." She paused to take a step back and gestured at Lissa and Maribelle. "Having someone of royal blood and of nobility to come will be a necessary step if we want to boost their morale and bring peace to their minds. And further, I assure you that many more men and women will be prompted to take up arms and enlist."

No one dared to talk after Cordelia had delivered her speech. Robin looked contemplative as well as conflicted. His eyes were focusing on Cordelia's, and frankly, Lissa had simply _never _seen the usually composed tactician looking this…murderous. Yes, that would be one word best to describe his expression right now, she decided. Narrowed eyes, creased brows, mouth curled distastefully. Lissa certainly owed a lot to the Pegasus Knight.

"Valid points…" Robin said finally. "But you haven't answered the big question yet."

"Ah, the how's." Cordelia nodded. "I'll simply ride with them."

Learning from experience, he kept silent and waited for Cordelia to explain, to which she did. "I'll go with them disguised as a normal knight," she said. "I will dye my hair and wear a recruit's armor. My post within the castle walls will be taken by one of my subordinates who will pose as myself—of course, that person will also be the most capable knight under me. Seeing that the 'tour' will not take more than a week, I suppose that should prove not to be too much of a problem."

Lissa jumped straight to drive the point further. "Yes, Rob! If we have Cordelia with us, you won't need to be super-worried day and night! You'll get old and fat and cranky earlier if you keep those furrowed all the time!" she said, pointing to silver eyebrows with her index finger.

"You know exactly the words to undo me, Princess." It was clear right now that Robin was more amused than annoyed. One end of his firm mouth was teasing upward as he looked at Lissa. But then his eyes cooled into those dark, unreadable hues when they traveled back to Cordelia's figure. "All right, then," he said, and Lissa gripped Maribelle's hand in glee, "I will entrust the Princess and Lady Maribelle's safety to you. Providing you will give me a daily report through the doves."

Cordelia solemnly bowed. "I will, Grand Master."

Maribelle acted before Robin could change his mind or even move an inch. She spun him by the shoulders and walked him to the door. "Now that we have your permission, mister, we ladies shall have our time dressing properly."

Robin did not protest and allowed himself to be steered out of the room like a lamb ready for slaughter. Before the door close behind him, he sent what Lissa could only describe as a look of both concern and slight indignation. The door clasped shut, then Lissa jumped to hug Cordelia, causing the latter to gasp in surprise.

"Thank you so, soooo much, Cordelia!"

Cordelia just stood awkwardly for a second before she politely disentangled herself. "No thanks necessary, Princess," she said, a faint smile on her lips. "You have a noble heart and a just cause. It is my duty to see that your people also see that kindness in you."

Lissa had the intelligence not to blush at her praise but turned her head sideway to giggle. "And that face! I've never seen Rob looking so dejected! Not even my craziest pranks have ever pulled such a look out of him!"

Immediately Cordelia's expression sobered. "I hope I haven't crossed any lines… Or I should expect to be demoted upon my return to the capital."

Lissa's giggle erupted into laughter that Maribelle also shared. "Oh, no, don't worry," Lissa said as she tried to control her breathing. "Rob's really not that kind of person. He just hates losing a debate, that's all."

Maribelle's laughter ceased, and she added, "But seriously, dear. Is it just me or is _he _getting more and more paranoid these days? He's increased the guards stationed around your chambers, has he not?"

"He has. But I think that's just him being himself," Lissa said with a shrug. She was reminded of the time she'd spent together with Robin and Chrom camping around the forests, of the nights when they were forced to go separate ways under dire circumstances. Chrom had always been a trusting friend to Robin, and Lissa had often been stuck with no one but the silver-haired man in their fighting days. They had both always been protective, though Chrom and Robin differed in their ways of showing it. "Paranoia or whatever ailment it is he's suffering from will be healed when my brother returns. Now…" She motioned for a servant to get the dress she was supposed to don. "May the dress up begin!"

* * *

~ x x x ~

* * *

_**A/N: **__drunkdragon: thank u for the kind words! I'll read and review yours once my hectic schedule takes a pity on me and my muse! | Guest[01], Gunlord500: thanks again for reading and reviewing! | Flipnhaole: they are such work-a-holics aren't they... Ylisse needs people like that though, with Chrom at the helm...No offense, Chrom! | Guest[02]: why, it's such a pleasure to encounter a reader of Memories of Brighter Days! hope you can also enjoy this one!_


	3. Chapter 3

_This is the 645th day of my stay in Ylisse._

_Upon taking a short, leisure stroll this morning, I saw a bird dying on the ground of a forest. A blue canary. There was a gash on its stomach. Probably the doing of an avian predator._

_I inspected the wound and tried a simple conjuration on the helpless creature. To no avail. The wound was too deep, and it had lost much blood already._

_As precious seconds trickled by, the bird died on my palms. It did not utter any sound when its life oozed from the tiny body. It only blinked once, twice, then closed its eyes._

_What thoughts must have the creature had upon its last breath? Thoughts of sorrow, perhaps? Or peace?_

* * *

**Chapter 03**

**Blunder**

* * *

The first village on their list was small and its villagers were noticeably wary. The atmosphere was tense and quiet. Despite the early hour, the local farms were almost bare of any field workers save for some groups of twos who were tending to their crops and animals, their eyes were watchful when the royal party marched into the village. Their fear was understandable. There was only one watch tower standing at the gate of the village. The wall surrounding it was made of wood. No guards could be seen manning it either.

Had they been killed? Had this village been attacked? More than once, perhaps?

Yes, she supposed. Cordelia saw that these farmers had swords or daggers on their belts, some of them were even groping for the hilts as the party approached near. No farmers would act that paranoid if their village had not seen blood.

Lissa forbade the blow of a trumpet, not wanting to scare the villagers with any grand announcements of her arrival. She opted to dismount from her steed instead, and walked at the front, accompanied by Maribelle, and Cordelia, whose hair was dyed black and was wearing a simple armor of a low-ranking knight. A guard shouted to announce her presence.

The villagers came out from their houses, reluctantly at first, but once encouraged by the sight of carts of food, they became quite eager to form a circle around the young princess. Lissa greeted them with a wide smile, calling to the children especially as she ordered the carts to be unloaded. She had also brought toys with her. Seeing this, the tense atmosphere was soon lifted.

The visit went smoothly, so to speak. The villagers warmed up quickly to the cheerful princess and her friend. They accepted the gifts with wide, happy eyes. And yes, their stories did confirm Cordelia's suspicion. The village had suffered from a bandit attack three weeks prior to the royal party's arrival. Not much had been lost since the band had been small and the guards still present. But even so, there had been casualties. One third of the guards had been hurt. What they had not expected then was the Risen to terrorize the area soon after. Less than a week, and now the village stood unguarded.

The villagers had repaired the wooden wall in haste, fearing that the next attack would come before a new batch of guards did. Men had been armed and kids had been told not to go outside of their houses. Tens of villagers had fallen victims. And now that they were running out of medical stock, their fear of the wounded to become one of the Risen increased by a hundred fold.

"We haven't even finished in burying the dead when one of them rose as a soulless creature," one of the women said in a trembling voice. Lissa was holding the woman's hand. "My husband rose next… And then we were forced to run from the burial ground…" She stopped short and started sobbing.

Lissa held the woman, comforting her in a low murmur.

Another woman, older, spoke. "They stank worse than the corpses they had been a minute ago, Princess. Harder to fell than living men too. They only had the mind to feed on us."

"We have some who are deeply wounded by the last attack with us," added a man. "We're really worried that they would rise as one of those undead, so we're forced to keep them in a locked cabin."

Hearing this, Cordelia bit her lip as she went about her duty in helping the knights to distribute food and supplies. She knew what was left unsaid: that there were men posted around said cabin, armed with whatever sharp objects they had, waiting unsurely for any signs of malice from the wounded. They'd be forced to kill their own kinsmen.

This…was worse than the report had told. Cordelia passed a crate she was holding to a knight. She approached Lissa and the circle of people around her. She caught Lissa's gaze, then gave her a small nod. _Time to go. We cannot not afford travel in the dark._

Though looking unwilling to part from the small crowd just yet, Lissa promised the villagers that she would return again, and that she would provide them with whatever it was that they needed on a regular basis. A group of guards would be left here to defend them. Doves had also been given as means to communicate, so that if the village was ever suffering from another attack again or in dire need of fighting hands, they would not risk to send a runner through the thick woods.

Lissa offered to heal the wounded first before leaving—an offer the villagers accepted with tearful eyes and abundant thanks—then she and Maribelle said their farewell. Heading southwest, the party resumed their journey.

Lissa was uncharacteristically silent on the way to the second village they were supposed to visit before evening. Maribelle and Cordelia were riding beside her, and after a lot of musing on their part, it was Maribelle who finally spoke her mind. "The situation is unsettling, isn't it…"

"Yeah," Lissa said, somewhat absentmindedly with her gaze still trailed to the path before her.

"What's on your mind, dear?"

"Many things," came the reply along with a pout. "I…was thinking of how the peace we'd fought to achieve is slipping away. We fought like crazy to drive enemies away. But look at that village... It doesn't seem as if anything's really changed."

Maribelle steered her steed closer to her friend. "Now, now... Stop thinking of such things. You know there are things we can do to prevent worse things from happening. Such is the reason why your brother was so insistent on going north." Lissa didn't reply to that, so Maribelle took it to continue, in a meeker tone. "We can't predict anything about when or where the Risen will appear, just as Rob has said. But we can prevent people from getting wounded and killed and becoming one of them. You have just done that."

"I don't know. I feel like I haven't been that much of a help…"

"You need not to think like a self-depreciating fool," chided the blonde woman.

"But Chrom's fighting out there while all I can do is—" Lissa didn't carry on and let her shoulders sag.

It was Cordelia who then took it as her cue to speak up. "Your brother is fighting to protect the peace, yes. You may not wield a sword and may not harbor the prowess that he has, but you have something that could prove to be just as powerful, Princess."

Lissa's eyes widened. There was insecurity misting the hazel orbs, a rare find on the usually upbeat girl. "And what's that?"

Cordelia smiled. "Valor, Princess."

"Valor?"

"Yes. Think of what you have just done. Think of the villagers' tears of gratitude and the children's smiles. They were all your doing."

Lissa seemed to contemplate on the idea for a moment before deciding that it was acceptable. The slow smile that was creeping on her lips was proof enough. "Thanks again, you two. I'll try to do what I can 'till peace is ensured again!"

"Well, that's the Lissa I know and love," said Maribelle. "You can't cheer the people up looking as if you've just walked into a funeral!"

Cordelia watched as Lissa and Maribelle entered a light banter. The Princess of Ylisse was sure someone with a light, carefree spirit, she thought. Looking at her now, she didn't give any indication that she had been sober thirty seconds ago. She was quite alike to Chrom in that way, though of course Lissa excelled a great deal in spirit.

Chrom…

Cordelia shut her eyes and tried not to think further of him.

She was a knight. A knight ought to be trained in the matters of physical strength and also the mind. She knew that. But sometimes, the walls she'd put around her heart and mind would shatter at the thought of him.

The silly yearning of the prince's attention and affection may have faded in the year that followed his marriage to her best friend. She was glad that it had been Sumia; she truly did feel that the two were suited to each other. Still…the feelings she'd reserved for him lingered. Not as strong as before, but they had also yet to vanish completely. Could they truly disappear, she often wondered...

There was a cry of alert from above. It was a Pegasus Knight who was scouting ahead of them. She informed them of two men running to the direction of the royal party. The knights who marched on land along with the three ladies must have heard the approaching footsteps too, for the acting commander gave a signal to stop and wait with their weapons unsheathed.

From bushes at one side of the road came two men in tattered clothes. There were bruises and cuts on their bodies, and with ragged breath and wide-fearful eyes, they fell to their knees, held at bay by the knights to keep them away from Lissa and Maribelle. "Please," one of them said, eyes boring to the knight's closest to him then to the Princess'. "Please, please… Help us…!"

Cordelia held her spear at the ready. "What happened?" she asked.

"Bandits," the other man rasped. "They're attacking our village!"

Lissa and Maribelle quickly exchanged shocked glances. Cordelia urged her steed to trot closer to the men. "In broad daylight?"

"They came from the west, marauding swift with horses and wyverns," the first man said. "We were able to escape because we'd been on the field…"

"Please… Help our families!"

Lissa urged her steed to move forward. "We will."

"Lissa! We cannot!" Maribelle exclaimed.

"What?! Why can't we? People are being killed even as we speak! Are you suggesting we just walk away and let them die?!"

"No! It's not that I want to leave the matter be. But..." Maribelle was clearly having a fight with herself over the matter, it seemed. It was made visible by the deep frown between blond eyebrows and the chewing of her lips. "Look. We'd be deviating from our plans for the day! Not to mention that there is no village nearby in the map!"

Sensing that their prospect of gaining help was about to be lost, one of the men wailed. "There are many villages here that are not present on the map, My Lady. Ours is small! Please, I beg you! Come to our help!"

"But we can't let them be!" Lissa countered. She looked up to a Pegasus rider who was coming back from a quick look.

"It's a mile to the north!" she said. "Up on a hill!"

Having it confirmed, Lissa wasted no second to gallop. "Knights, let's go!"

Cordelia and half of the Pegasus Knights quickly ascended to the sky while Lissa told the men to direct the land party. Cordelia squinted against the glinting sun, then tried to see where the scout had flown to and followed her figure in a distance.

Ah. She could see it. A small village indeed; it didn't look like it housed more than twenty families at best. It was nested on a small hill with black smokes beginning to rise from where it stood. "With me," she shouted to the riders.

They flew over the dense canopy of trees. Up high and closer to the village, she could see that the raid had been swift and devastating. Almost all of the houses were on fire, the farms trampled upon, people scattering about. Some were running for their lives down the slope, some were trying to fight back the band of leather-clothed men and women who were armed better than the farmers. Cordelia gave a hand signal and the group of Pegasus Knights began their descend, right into the heart of the village.

Thirty or perhaps forty in total. Only eight were archers. The fight would be a quick one. Tending to the wounded would be another story.

A part of Cordelia was supporting Maribelle's earlier argument, thinking of what report should she write to the Grand Master who was very adamant that they should follow the plans and not to stray from the routes which he had marked. But at the same time, her duty was foremost to adhere to the royal family and serve them with all her strength.

_Focus_.

Spears met swords, arrows met shields. The bandits had the tact to make haste into retreating back into the woods at the foot of the hill. Besting a group of trained knights mounted on winged horses was something they clearly had not prepared to do.

Within no time half of the bandits had been felled. The rest had gone into the safety of the trees where the Pegasii had troubles navigating through. Cordelia shouted the order to stop their pursuit and went to check on her party and the village. Not much damage had been done to hers; the village was an entirely different story. She wasn't sure how Lissa would react if she saw the calamity. If the first village had pulled down her spirit so then the view of dead bodies, weeping children and burnt houses was bound to sadden her more.

But wait. Where was Lissa?

She had marched on ground with the rest of the knights which numbered from sixty to seventy in total. The forest may be dense and the path leading to the hill may be a steep climb, but more than thirty minutes had passed since. "Do you see the royal party?" she shouted at one of her subordinates.

"Not since the last time we parted ways, My Lady," a woman replied.

Cordelia kicked her mount to sear into the sky with a troubled mind. Making a wide circle atop the trees, she tried to search for any signs of armored riders and horses. No luck. She had to land.

A few more rounds and at last she found a small clearing near the base of the hill. Cordelia's Pegasus landed with a thud, the ground soft beneath the hooves. Something was amiss. The forest was too quiet. There was no sound of the horses, no bustling of steel or cries of marching soldiers. Even the birds did not chirp.

Cordelia urged her Pegasus to move forward into the thickness of the forest, searching, hoping. A three minute of searching blindly led her to a confirmation of her fears: a corpse. A knight. Bearing the Ylisse emblem.

No. _Please, no_…

Gasps from the other knights who had followed her could be heard. "My Lady…!" one called.

Without thinking Cordelia spun her steed and came closer to a knight who was beckoning her. There, what she saw was remnants of a massacre.

Blooded bodies of men and women and horses were strewn about in the wrong angles; weapons and shields laying harmlessly still, the ground soaked with blood.

It took a while for her to find her voice. "Search for the Princess," she said. Too weak. Cordelia tried to fight the consternation and feeling of helplessness that were gripping her being. "Search for the Princess and Lady Maribelle!" she managed to shout.

Please. _No more…_

* * *

\- A -

* * *

Chrom had put everything just as Robin had told him: the frontliners camping a distance away in an open field, another group concealed deeper in the woods. Distractors. Chrom would need to make the first group as a bait to lure the enemies into thinking that those were all the men they'd need to be concerned about.

He didn't know much about military tactics and strategies despite the many books and scripts his tutors had drilled upon him, but he knew enough that dividing an army into units or groups was something that was usually advised against.

Any misgivings he had had about the attack plan was evaporating the moment he heard the scouts reporting the way the enemies behaved. They stood confidently with what they had, and all their efforts were focused on manning the gates and the walls. It was just as Robin had predicted.

Many in number the bandits may be, but their wall was thin and their defenses concentrated at the front, trusting the high cliff behind them to be a solid wall created by nature. They would not be expecting the attack of Wyvern Riders and Pegasus Knights from said cliff.

Damned be all the scripts and books, right?

He had seen with his own eyes how Robin's tactics could catch the enemies off guard exactly because he deviated from the general principle of war. He had benefited from his friend's devious mind in strategy. He wouldn't follow some rules dead people had written years ago anyway.

The night was young and the pale moon had just risen. Tomorrow they'd begin their first attack.

Chrom rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and saw the map of the area laid before him for one last time. One black knight standing at the position of the first group which he was the lead, facing ahead the village full with white pawns. One black minister was hidden in the forest at the east, while the black queen stood mightily over the cliff.

Yawning, he stood up from his chair and walked out from the main tent. He would see to it that tomorrow the bandits would suffer the same fate they had brought to his people, but for tonight, he would retire to his tent and let sleep claim him. The day's march and preparations had tired him. Sumia and Lucina were down south and were already travelling back to the safety of Ylisstol. The thought that he could not see their faces for the time being put a melancholic feeling that was still foreign to him.

He'd only need to speed things up then. The sooner this was over, the sooner he could see them.

Chrom entered his tent and loosened the straps to his shoulder guard before tossing it to a nearby chair. His boots came next then he paused.

He heard something. A rustle. Faint, but he definitely had heard it. Carefully and as slowly as possible he straightened his body and acted as casual as he could. The oil lamp in his tent gave the tent a warm glow, while at the same time, also casting shadows upon his figure and every other object in the tent.

No sounds were heard again. Instead, he saw a movement of a shadow behind him.

As quickly as he could Chrom spun on his heel and unsheathed Falchion. He jammed the blade straight into the stomach of a man who was standing only a pace away from him.

The blade ran deep, protruding at the back of the intruder. Blood was gushing from the wound, wetting his hands.

The man gurgled. A clatter of steel. He had been holding a dagger. The weapon was meant to murder in silence.

Chrom withdrew his sword and the man collapsed to his back, eyes staring emptily as his last breath left him. He was dead.

The Exalt stood unmoving for some seconds, processing it all in. The man on his feet was wearing a black cloak and light armor under it, and was wearing a mask that hid half of his face. His dagger was curved and was of a design Chrom had never seen. Tied on his right arm was a red ribbon.

"Guards!"

Briskly he wore his boots back and walked out from his tent. A few men on patrol duty had heard him call and assembled outside, Frederick among them. "An assassin has just paid my tent a visit," he told them, quenching the anger and initial shock as best as he could.

Frederick looked as if torn between shock and shame of letting an enemy slip by into his commander's tent. "And you're all right, Captain?"

"I am. You go in and examine the body, Frederick. The rest of you," Chrom said to the guards, "sound the alarm and search the entire camp!"

The men nodded and quickly left to do what they'd been ordered. Chrom's grip on Falchion's hilt tightened. He prayed for Sumia and Lucina's safety.

* * *

\- A -

* * *

A flicker of fire.

Orange in color. Two seconds. Too small, didn't last long enough.

Robin noted the results on a piece of paper and tried to concentrate once more. This time, with more effort and a more measured approach. Couldn't be too forceful, couldn't be too weak. Remember the runes, imagine the heat, control the flow of energy.

Another flicker popped from his palm, in the color of blue now. Bigger. It lasted for five seconds.

No, six.

Better. But not good enough.

With his left hand he flipped to the next page of his tome, a worn book that had seen many uses in their war against the Plegians, found a line he had chanted so many times upon conjuring fire spells, checked the slithering curves of black ink he had inscribed to his right arm. Nothing wrong. It was still the same spell that had burnt enemies down to ashes. But then why was the fire so weak?

Robin flipped through the pages, eyes trailing up and down old runes and additional notes and chants he had put there upon so many experimentations in the past. Inscribing the runes and magic circles onto his own body had been something he had been thinking about for more than months after acquiring his first magical tome. Though he had made a research on ancient books of magic and found that a few magicians from hundreds of years before him had successfully pulled the feat of tomeless magic, he had never dared to try until recently.

Or perhaps it was not a matter of dare. He got too much time on his hands now that he had a severe case of insomnia, and frankly, the idea to try things he had not had the time before simply jumped at him.

The black sky outside of his window indicated that it was well past midnight. He had just given up on the prospect of sleeping before twelve, knowing all too well that he would only lay with open eyes if he tried to climb into bed. He would need to exhaust his mind and body first. And even then, not every day was a success. Two or three hours before dawn were what he would get if he was lucky. More often, an hour was all he could get before his eyes snapped open and his mind started working again. He was glad for his unlimited access to the royal library and hundreds, if not thousands, of books he could salvage from it. They made a good company, the books about magic especially.

Speaking about magic and experimentation, Miriel had said once that inscribing chants upon one's body was considered as a forbidden practice due to the high probability of the magic malfunctioning. The mage herself had tried to do it once, but the very first spell had gone wrong and had nearly roasted her alive. It appeared that the issue Robin was facing now was totally the opposite. The spell wasn't working as well as it should.

Trial results had been unsatisfactory so far. The longest time he'd managed was six seconds, while a spell of the same caliber, were it to be conjured by using enchanted tomes, would produce a much stronger fire that would last for minutes. What enemy could be killed with a small ball of fire that only lasted for six seconds?

Maybe if he tried to put little circles of the sun around the runes… He grabbed a quill which sharp end he had heated, used it to draw circular lines and eyes of the sun on his arm, ignoring the stinging pain. He inked it with a red color to set it apart from the black curves that were the runic alphabets. Four small suns with eyes at the center, each intertwining with the line of runes. There. Done.

All right, all that was left was—

Sharp raps on his door startled him. Fire licked across his fingers, igniting some of the papers on his desk. Curses! Quickly his left hand reached for a smaller tome of wind under the desk, flung it open, cast a spell in reverse order. The air around him cooled considerably, then it began to condense, and droplets of water formed. He splashed them onto his desk.

Quickly the fire was extinguished. Pale white smokes arose from the ashes that had been reports and notes. His desk survived, but not without an unrepairable damage to the surface.

The knocking on his door, having paused for a moment, resumed. Robin unrolled the sleeves of his shirt to cover the ink, walked to his door and yanked it open with great irritation.

"It's two in the morning in case you haven't realized—!"

"The Princess and Lady Maribelle are missing—!"

Robin and the guard on his doorstep barked at the same time.

They stopped abruptly, staring: the guard at the pile of black soot on the partially burnt desk of the Grand Master's, and Robin at the guard.

Robin recovered first. "What?"

The guard schooled his expression and looked back at Robin again. "Sir! Most of the knights who have escorted the Princess and Lady Maribelle were ambushed. A small few survived and they've just arrived minutes ago at the gates."

Robin's thought process began to speed up, barrage of questions shooting and fear blooming in his chest. "Bring me to them."

They half-ran to the gates of the castle, Robin not even sparing a second to drape a cloak over himself and bitterly cursed the cold night air. With each step he took his heart was hammering more painfully against his ribcages.

Lissa. Lissa _and _Maribelle. How.

When they were close enough did Robin finally see a group of knights and their mounts. He quickened his pace and saw, under the light of oil lamps the guards and medics had brought in emergency, that no more than thirty women had returned. Only the Pegasus Knights? Searching, he immediately spotted a familiar face, black-dyed hair partially tainted in blood.

"Lady Cordelia." He got to her side with long strides. His mind was so clouded and furious that he dismissed the scratches on her armor and exposed flesh to jerk her by the shoulder and brought her face up close. "Explain," he said through gritted teeth.

Scarlet eyes were wide with guilt. Dry lips parting to speak. They trembled. No words came.

She was still in a state of shock. Robin loosened his grip on her shoulder. "Please," he whispered. "Tell me what happened."

"I—" Cordelia croaked. Robin waited as she collected her mind.

One of the knights who had flown back with her made a move to reach out to her commander. "We'd been riding in a hurry without rest for half a day, Grand Master. Please have—"

Robin released Cordelia and the woman almost stumbled backward were it not for another knight who rose to her help. Robin turned to the knight who'd spoken. "You will do, then," he said curtly. "I shall not need to wait for your commander to recover. Tell me what happened."

"I'll take full responsibility," said Cordelia.

Robin glanced at her. She was dismissing the support of her subordinate, apparently having regained her presence of mind enough to speak sense and stand a bit firmer.

"We were distracted by the appearance of two men when we were on the way to the second village," she began. She told him of Lissa's reaction to the news, of her taking half of the Pegasus Knights to launch into air to scout ahead and land the first strike, of what became the village and the bandits. Then of the mass of corpses. "The Princess and Lady Maribelle's bodies were nowhere to be found," she said at last. Her eyes moved to the ground.

The first thought that graced Robin's mind was to test the tomeless fire conjuration at something or someone in the vicinity. He suppressed the idea with much labor. "So," he said, breath coming out in an indignant grunt, "you're saying that not only you strayed from your route, but you were also late to realize that they may be traps in the woods."

"We could not have known," a knight tried to argue, but Robin silenced her with a glare.

He looked at Cordelia again. "You have searched thoroughly for the bodies?"

"Yes."

"You're certain that they were not amongst the dead?"

"Yes, sir. Unless… Unless they deposited the bodies in a place we didn't look."

"No signs whatsoever of the attackers?"

She met his gaze then. Uncertain, apprehensive. "Only this." Cordelia held out a piece of red cloth.

Robin took the cloth and inspected it. A ribbon? There was nothing written on it, no marks, nothing that caught his eye. A plain, red ribbon without any distinctions.

Then it struck him.

"Valmese," he said under his breath. He'd read in it a book, found it under the tag of history of the neighboring kingdom. Armed with poisoned blades, cloaks as dark as the night, a red ribbon around the arm. "Valmese assassins."

Cordelia knelt to one knee, head hanging low. Her breath was a shallow intake that could very well be a choke or a sniff for all Robin cared. "I shall take whatever punishment that you see fit for my failure, Grand Master."

But he was hardly listening. He had turned and begun to walk back to the castle. The red ribbon was clutched tightly in one hand.

_They did not slaughter her. _This was kidnapping._ A planned one._

With a mind full of all possible scenarios he tried to draw one most logical conclusion:_ they want something._

But what?

He had not reached the stairs leading to the war room when a steward came running. "My Lord! A dove has arrived! It was splotched and not of our breed!"

Robin saw that the young lad was with a letter. He received it and inspected the seal. A bull's head. He broke the seal, opened the letter, and perused the short content.

"Read," he commanded the steward with his eyes still glued to the parchment.

The boy awkwardly shuffled closer to peek at the writing.

"Memorized?" Robin asked.

"Yes, My Lord."

"Make a copy of it."

Robin summoned magic from deep within him. Fueled by rage, it flowed freely through his veins, his right arm, exploding at the tips of his fingers. The steward gasped in shock and jumped back when bright, white flame pulsed alive and set the letter ablaze.

* * *

~ x x x ~

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Thank you all for your Reviews! They certainly gave me a reason to update fast!_

_Patient 0 Zero: thank you, then do please stay tuned! | Flipnhaole: You read it through ;) | Lolrus555: Don't worry about her being the centerpiece of this story because she's not. All stories, though, need some background seasoning | Simers: Thank you for your kind (can I interpret it as kind?) words! Cordelia certainly has! | brandishScott: will do! | Ginger owl 411: Now you've made my day! Let's just say it is one of my hobbies, yes? :p | WhyFly53: a good thought! It could certainly be interpreted that way... | shippaocchan: good to see you again here! hope you can enjoy this one! | Shaded-C01: we'll see, I guess~ | Puni Risacchan: I certainly hope I haven't made him too ambiguous. Nice to hear that! | Ichijoji Takeru: thanks again for dropping by! yes, FEA is just full of humor, isn't it? | TheW23AC: Ah, nice to hear that this story is likeable. Thanks for pointing it out._


	4. Chapter 4

_646th day._

_I shouldn't have let them go out of the city._

_I shouldn't have listened to her._

* * *

**Chapter 04**

**Dishonored**

* * *

Dawn came painfully slow that morning. None of the Pegasus Knights who had returned to Ylisstol were badly injured, but their spirits and minds were dampened. They had returned with a news that brought the entire castle to chaos, after all. Failing a mission and losing a Princess and a highborn lady were a burden far too heavy to sustain.

Cordelia, especially, had not caught some rest. Her eyes were refusing to be closed more than a minute, and her mind was always wandering to the forest where she'd lost both Princess Lisa and Lady Maribelle. The forest, though dense, had been scouted by Pegasus Knights. There had been no indications of ambush or any movements at all. How had their enemies lurked about whilst avoiding detection was still something she could not understand.

The medics who had tended to her wounds had advised her to at least lay down until sunrise, but she could not. And how could she, when no one told her what to do or what to wait for? No order or punishment had been sentenced to her and her squad, not even a single word of notice. The council had assembled, she knew, and yet her fate still remained undecided.

Her fellow Pegasus Knights who were with her were suffering from the same torture, for the room was silent save for occasional murmurs. No one dared to question what would become of them now that they had directly stained the face of the royal family with their failure.

Not being able to sit still in the hospital wing anymore, she decided to leave the room. The silence hanging there was suffocating, and the lack of things to do was leaving her restless and uneasy.

The castle was bustling with activity today, and it took everything in her to ignore the looks people were giving her as she passed by. No doubt news had spread. The looks thrown on her were ranging from curiosity to plain accusation.

_A failure of a knight. Useless_.

Cordelia increased her pace until she was in front the chambers of the current Grand Master. A guard who stood in front of the door halted her advance. "The Grand Master wishes not to be disturbed right now," he said.

"The council meeting has ended, I take it?"

"It has. But he requested that no one bothers him until the next session of meeting."

Cordelia thought of some replies, but it was Robin's voice who answered from behind closed doors. "Let her in."

The guard stepped aside, though not without the narrowing of his eyes.

Permitted entry, Cordelia walked into the most untidy room she had ever been. It was a regular tower room: round, but instead of paintings and tapestries that would usually be hanging on the sloping walls, maps and various designs of things she did not recognize were displayed. The carpeted floor was literally flooded with papers and books, leaving only trails of path to the desk and the large bed. Blue curtains over the windows had not been drawn, casting a gloomy atmosphere to the interior.

Robin was seated behind his desk, still in the clothes she'd seen him upon her arrival at the castle gates. His hands were folded before him, and his eyes, red from the apparent lack of sleep, were glued to a parchment in front of him.

"How can I help you, Lady Cordelia?" he asked without glancing away from his work. There was dryness in his tone and his lack of attention to her person hurt more than a slap she would have expected upon her error.

"I wish to help in whatever way I can," she said. Her voice was steady, but it was lacking the firmness it usually held.

"Oh?"

She stood still as she waited but he did not utter any word more than that. It occurred to her that the Grand Master was regarding her in the same way he would a child. Or worse, a nonexistent matter. Her already scarred pride did not mind the fresh wound, but, "Please, Grand Master. At least—"

"At least what?" he asked sharply, finally looking up. Fringes of silver hair fell to one eye. Those blue orbs were dark, and she could see cold fury in them. Slowly, Robin stood up. "You should be happy that the council has not decided to dump you into a dungeon just yet. You failed to even adhere to a simple order."

"Yes. I have failed the Princess and Lady Maribelle." Hearing her own voice declaring it made the gravity of her mistakes sound graver. She tried not to think of how Chrom and Sumia would react to this, and prayed that her stance and voice may not falter.

"You have." He took deliberate steps, approaching her like a big cat on a hunt. "You failed to perceive a possibility of ambush."

He stopped two steps away from her. His eyes were peering down with mild disgust. Cordelia swallowed it all in and tried to steel herself. "As I said, I take full responsibility, Sir. I will receive any punishment you deem just, but foremost I wish to partake in whatever action you plan to get the Princess and Lady Maribelle back."

Robin made short, rough bark of laughter. "There will be no battle, sadly. We will not be requiring…the strength of you knights."

She stared at him. "No battle, Sir…?"

"None." Robin turned and walked to the windows and draw the curtains to let sunlight burst through. "The Valmese wants a specific thing we possess," he said. "It will be an exchange, not a battle. _A sword raised and the Princess' head will fall_."

Her heart sank and so did the small hope she'd clutched unto. "Might I know the specific thing they ask in exchange?"

"It is none of your business."

A confidential matter, then. The council must have forbidden him from sharing. Still, it hurt to hear those words spoken so casually. It was as if she was stripped of her rank already.

A glance over one shoulder, and she could see Robin's eyes growing distant, not seeing her—not seeing at anything in particular. "Do you know," he said in a lower tone, "that failing the royal family means failing the whole Ylisse, Lady Cordelia?"

She did know. She also knew of the implications.

She kept her mouth shut.

"You will be brought before the council," he continued. "You and your knights who have failed Princess Lissa and Lady Maribelle. Just one thing before you leave this room, though…" His eyes grew several shades darker against the streaming sunlight, and for the very first time, Cordelia knew why it was the castle dwellers were so cautious around him. The new Grand Master of Ylisse was someone not to be trifled. "There are speculations…whispers, you might say, that you already of the assassins' presence when you took off with your subordinates."

For a moment she could only stare, her mind suddenly a blank state. It took two seconds for the meaning of his words to hit her. Cordelia bowed her head low, tears rising up to her eyes. They were tears of anger, mind. "I would _never _plot with the enemy against Ylisse!" she said, voice hoarse. "Think lowly of my skills as you will, but never my intentions…!"

There was silence in the moment that followed. Cordelia's heart was pounding so loud in her chest she thought it would combust. This man… this man had just accused her of treason!

"There are numerous possibilities, though." His tone was conversational, but laced with a good dose of malice. "You may have planned everything all along. Coming to the Princess' defense against my advice, getting in the right moment to present yourself to her. All military reports and scouts, after all, come to your office before they come to mine."

She straightened and, blinking away the hot tears in her eyes, looked directly into Robin's. Her voice shook with rage and other emotions she couldn't name when she spoke. "With all due respect, I wouldn't mind being blamed, Grand Master. I wouldn't mind being held responsible and demoted for my mistakes. But never, even in my wildest dreams, would I ever break my oath as a knight of Ylisse and turn my blade against the royal family."

He regarded her with a look of indifference. Moving to his table, he sat perched on it. He waved a hand towards the door. "Please. See yourself out, My Lady. You seem tired."

Cordelia didn't move.

"Your trial will take place tomorrow morning," he said when she did nothing but glaring at him. "I reckon you might want to prepare yourself and build your case."

"There is no case, Grand Master." The words came through cold and menacing, but they only made one end of Robin's mouth twitch up to her greater irritation. Her own hands were curling into fists. "Things went as I reported them to you. Nothing more. Nothing less."

"Would be good if that's the truth. But the idea of you plotting against us did not only come from me. There are others who harbor the same suspicion as well. Not small in number, I may add."

"Then why I would return here, to the heart of the capital where my enemies reside, if what you and the council speculated was true?"

"To instill greater damage, perhaps? To draw suspicion. To lure us out. To make us focus on things we should not while your comrades are moving in the shadows, and many other probabilities."

"I _will never_ betray my homeland."

Robin's smile disappeared and he raised his chin. "One needs proofs in order to stand firm in a trial, don't you agree?"

"Proofs?" Her jaw dropped a little, then a raw, disbelieving laughter came out on its own. "Proofs?" She was shaking her head. "Is my military record not enough? I have served Ylisse for as long I can remember, from the very first day these hands held a spear…!"

"Ah, yes, unblemished record, yours are. But still—"

"I'd rather face the guillotine rather than going against the people and nation I swore to protect." The last three words had come out in a venomous hiss.

Cordelia was trying to calm herself, to see reason and to restrain her hands from reaching out to the man's exposed neck and squeeze the life out of him. Never in her life had her allegiance and loyalty been questioned! Much less doubted! She had killed for Ylisse, bled for Ylisse, forgone her wants for Ylisse…! How come was it that all the things she had sacrificed were trampled upon by this man who did not even have a past?! "I am a knight before anything else," she said with a set jaw. "I will die should duty requires me my life."

The look on Robin's face had changed. He was looking at her as though measuring something, as though thinking if she had been true with her words. Thinking, and perhaps doubting.

Robin repeated the motion he'd made towards the door then, and without breaking his gaze from hers, said, "Good day, Lady Cordelia."

She did not need to be urged to leave the room this time.

* * *

\- A -

* * *

The moment Cordelia spun and stormed out of his room Robin moved to one of the bookcases in his room and withdrew a book with embossed pattern. It was worn to the point that the binding was in the brink of falling apart. His own hand writing was scribbled upon the pages, and he flipped through them until he found the first of the remaining empty pages. He sat down on his chair again and started to write.

At some point nearing midday his door was knocked and he permitted entry to the same young steward who had relayed the letter he'd burnt this morning. He didn't stop from his task, even as a tray of food and drink was lain at a table near his bed. The smell of fresh bread and steaming soup was inviting, but he did not have it in him to relish his hunger, much less to touch the jug of cold ale that the boy had also brought.

"Forgive me, My Lord," the young boy timidly said when Robin did not move from his chair. Robin glanced at him once to see him standing somewhat unsurely near his desk. The boy's eyes, black in color, were darting to anywhere but to meet the person's he was addressing. "I was told that you skipped your breakfast this morn. Please take some time to rest and eat, lest you fall sick."

Robin paused in his task, looking fully at the boy now.

"Er, I did not mean to be disrespectful or hinder your work," he quickly added, taking a step back in fear that the Grand Master would burst. In him taking a step back it meant that his foot stepped upon a stack of papers and some books strewn about the floor. The boy yelped, repositioned himself and bowed deep in apology. "F-forgive me, My Lord!"

"What's your name?"

His head snapped, face contorted and was almost drained of all colors.

Robin repeated his question as he set his quill down. "What's your name?"

Confused and clearly not used of being asked of this, the boy said, "Jay, My Lord."

"Jay." Robin nodded. "How old are you?"

"Ehh. I'll be fourteen in a month's time."

By now, Robin had turned to him in his chair, one feet crossed over another in a relaxed manner. His gaze moved up and down the boy's stature. Average height for someone of his age, not quite muscular, but fit enough to do labor in and around the castle, his time of service proven by the callous on his hands. This boy called Jay had a bushy brown hair that refused to be tamed by a brush, it seemed, for it sort of stuck to many directions. Had a nervous habit of twitching his thumb too. "Tell me, Jay. Who brought you into the castle?"

Looking more alarmed now than riddled, the boy's eyes grew impossibly huge. "Have I done something wrong, Grand Master?" he asked in a startled voice. "Have I done something to offend you?"

Robin shrugged. "You _will_ offend me, if you don't answer my question."

"Ah, it's, uh… I-it was Sir Stahl, My Lord. Sir Stahl was an old acquaintance of my youngest uncle. He, uh, referred me to a cook in the castle when Lord Chrom was appointed Exalt."

"Stahl, hmm? Your uncle is in the army, I assume. The one who taught you to read and write?"

More fiddling of the hands. "Y-yes. Yes, My Lord. He did. Ever since I was a child. He takes care of me well."

Orphaned since a young age. Possibly no close relatives to depend on; traveled to the capital in hopes of a better luck. Robin leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on knees, and motioned the boy to come closer. Jay did as he was told, albeit very warily. "You read and you write. Have you ever thought that you could lead a...better life than that of an errand boy's?"

The look on Jay's face showed cautious interest. His bushy eyebrows were drawn together, and the puzzlement over Robin's words was masked well with a tilt of his head. Robin smiled wryly. "You know your way around here, yes?"

"Yes… Yes, I do, My Lord. The cooks frequently orders me to the market and the villages nearby to replenish the kitchens storage."

"Good. Listen well, Jay. I have a very big, important task for you," he said, careful in dropping his tone to make it sound conspiratorial. Robin leaned closer until he was only an arm's length with Jay. "The task that I'm about to give you, if completed well, shall earn you my favor and a good payment worthy of, say, six months' pay."

Jay's eyes glinted at this but still had his expression guarded.

Robin flipped his right hand so the palm was facing up. He mentally chanted a shortened version of a spell and let magic course through his blood. White fire lighted his fingers. Jay held his breath when it danced in between, forming shapes undefinable as the fire flickered and licked. "Are you not intrigued by the way magic works, Jay?"

Robin knew he had the boy's curiosity and fascination captured when Jay's eyes were fixated on the fire. Robin let the fire burn out. "I can teach you a few things that I know. But I would do so if you could swear that you will not stray from my order and keep everything else I tell you a secret."

Jay looked as if he was thinking hard over the prospect. Robin merely waited while tapping his finger softly against the desk, mind supplying him with a mental image of a chess board he had often mused about at night and moving about the pieces.

When the boy finally made up his mind and offered him a silent nod, the game was set.

* * *

\- A -

* * *

The Hall was only half-occupied with people when she came in. The throne and the high seats meant for the Queen and the Grand Master were vacant, and the room looked barren with only twenty of so officials and two ministers, acting as the judges, seated in their respective seats. The few numbers was explainable: for this was a time of turmoil—_the turmoil mainly being the result of your failure_, a cold voice of her own rang in her mind—and many of a task had to be handled at once now that the situation had grown dire with the captor of the Princess had made his demands known.

A scribe, a thin, well-dressed man, was seated at a small table, apart from the members of the council, equipped with inkhorn, quills and paper. A dozen of guards who were armed to the teeth with spears in their hands were lining the walls.

Cordelia waked into the center of the Hall, mindful of the eyes set on her person, while the rest of the Pegasus Knights who had returned with her to Ylisstol stood some paces away from her. She was the commander. It would be _her _trial.

"Lady Cordelia, commander of the Pegasus Knights and captain of the escort team of Princess Lissa and Lady Maribelle," called the scribe.

Cordelia gave a bow.

"Lady Commander," began a minister, "the Grand Master has told us that he had heard your side of the story in person a day prior to this trial. Is that true?"

"Yes."

"He had informed the council that you are to stand without any defendants or any backup case. Is that also true?"

Murmurs of worry aired from the knights behind her. "Yes."

"What you have told to the Grand Master, Lord Robin…"

"Is also true," she said. Her eyes were focused on the minister who was speaking but her mind was not. So, Robin did not even see this trial as a matter of import now that he had heard what it was she wished to say. Cold anger rose again within her, and before the minister could open his mouth again, she said, "I shall repeat my case in front of you all and it will not be different from what you have heard from _the_ Grand Master." A little emphasis on the word 'the' was borne out of the sourness she felt in her mouth upon thinking of that silver-haired man.

The minister permitted her to continue with a gesture of his fat hand.

"We were on our way to the second village on our list, on a pathway cutting through the forests, when two men appeared on the roadside and begged for help…" From there she told about the initial misgivings Maribelle had voiced, and everything that occurred thereafter. When describing of the pile of bodies, she took care to give details of what she remembered seeing. "The two men who had come to plead for our help were amongst the fallen ones," she said.

The ministers and the council traded glances at this. "You're saying that the two had not been a part of whatever ploy of the enemy's construction?"

"Could very well be, My Lord. Though if they were slain due to their need of assurance that no survivor lived to tell where they went or they had simply never been part of the plan I do not know." The truth. It was something that still nagged at her mind: whether the two villagers had been puppets of the enemy or just victims of a cruel tactic of diversion.

The two ministers spoke to one another in hushed voices, and even without facing the knights behind her, she knew that their hearts were heavy with unrest, just as hers was. Finished discussing, the ministers sat upright again and one of them spoke. "Your tale has been considered."

It was the other who delivered the words she'd been dreading. "You, Lady Commander Cordelia, have returned from your mission without those whom you were meant to guard. You obeyed the Princess' command on field but disregarded the Grand Master's by deviating from the planned route. In the Grand Master's presence the next morning you swore that you had not known anything about the ambush and had simply followed Princess Lissa's order to lead the charge."

The voice of the minister's, loud and clear, was echoing throughout the great hall. When the last echo had bounced off the walls did the minister address the knights who stood paces from Cordelia. "Is there anything that is left?"

Silence. A few shook their heads.

"Is there anything you, as witnesses and also part of her squad, would like to add?"

No one spoke. They knew that what Cordelia had said was the whole truth; they knew nothing of the ambush, they had simply followed orders; they had strayed from the original plan.

The minister took account of their silence as a no, then looked at Cordelia and said, "Is there anything you wish to say now, Lady Cordelia?"

"One thing, yes." She took a deep breath to soothe her nerves. "Whatever the punishment or sanction it is that is seen right for my errors, please let me bear it alone."

She was aware of the widening of eyes that were boring on her back as well as the muted gasps from the women. "They had simply followed my order, My Lord," Cordelia said.

Cordelia clenched her fists to keep them from shaking. One part had been done. No, _her_ part had been. The Pegasus Knights had no need to shoulder the burden she was supposed to carry; she was their commander, the one who were entrusted to make good judgment and had issued orders. It was only right that she should be the one to be held responsible for her judgment.

The ministers and the men and women of the council seemed to consider this then agreeing. "You have not only defied the Grand Master, whose authority surpassed the no one but the Exalt, but also lost the youngest royal of the house of Ylisse and Lady Maribelle." He made a pause, both to give the scribe a moment to write down every word and to deliver the effect that did not miss its mark. Cordelia's heart was again pounding, each beat reverberated her bones, her feet threatening to give.

'_You've cheated death. Twice.' _That same cold voice was whispering in her mind. Her own, and sometimes, Phila's.

"…The court has deemed that they are actions that belittle the title and authority you now hold." The minister raised one hand that was holding staff of steel, elegant with ancient Ylissean and symbols curving its length, and brought the end down to the floor. It rang as clear as a bell.

'_Can you pull the same feat for the third time?'_

"You are seen no longer fit to hold the title of a knight nor to wield the blessed spear of the Ylissean sigil. Your rank as a commander will be passed to someone of the council's choosing and you will leave the capital without your armor or your spear."

She had seen something akin to this, in a court, years ago together with her instructor and friends upon their early days of service. Phila had brought the girls to attend a trial of a fellow Pegasus Knight who had been charged with treason, to teach them the reward of foolishness, Phila had said. The man had been dishonored then, by the hands of the late Exalt, Emmeryn, and her small circle of councilmen.

That memory supplied her with enough knowledge of what was about to transcend. Two guards, women, both, in respect of her gender, came forward. They placed themselves on either side of her, awaiting the word of order.

Several of the Pegasus Knights had spoken up in protest, but one of the ministers silenced them with a wave of his staff. Cordelia met the minister's gaze steadily. She was aware that tears were welling up, the gnawing in her heart. She opened her eyes wide, unblinking and seeing nothing, waiting for the wetness to dry before streaking her cheeks. _Not here_. She would not show weakness in front of her own subordinates and comrades.

The minister pointed the end of his staff at her, and as swift as eagles diving for jumping fish, the guards at her sides undid the straps that held her armor.

The still moment she had prayed fervently to God that he would give her strength when the needs arose had little to no impact. She could feel her blood stopping cold, the ground beneath her shaking, and she prayed, hoped, that it would open up and swallow her whole to save her of the shame.

Her chest guard fell with a thick thumping sound to the floor, the sound muffled by the fine rugs that were splayed over marble. Her shoulder guards came loose next, and so did the braces and every part of steel her outfit had it until she was left only in her black, sleeveless shirt and skirt.

Coldness met her skin, and in her vision—or in her mind? She wasn't sure she was seeing what she was thinking or processing what she was seeing—she saw the stern faces of the ministers, and of those who were not present in the hall. Sumia's horrified look. Chrom's disappointed face. The rest of the Shepherds'.

Almost all of the knights were uttering weak sounds of broken sobbing when the deed was done.

There stood not Lady Cordelia the commander of Ylissean Pegasus Knights.

Naught but a disgraced knight who'd failed her country.

* * *

\- A -

* * *

There were two guards who were assigned to accompany her out of the hall to the dwindling steps toward the knights' quarters—no, not accompanying; they were making sure that she wouldn't do anything foolish, like, taking a swift revenge on certain group of people or stealing from the castle or meeting with a castle dweller, in that matter. Unnecessary precaution in her case. As if she would want to damage her already blemished reputation further.

On her walk to her quarters she shut down all feelings and emotions, forcing her mind into auto-pilot state to prevent it from roaming and breaking what thin pillars that supported her. The guards stopped before the door leading to her chambers, and once inside, she shut it behind her. And she leaned on the wooden plank.

_Don't think_, she thought to herself, biting the inner walls of her mouth. The pain felt startling but it was a welcome sensation. It distracted her from the aching of the heart. _Don't…_

Too late. The stinging bite of reality pushed tears back to her eyes, and this time, having used all the strength she'd had to stand erect in the hall, they sluiced down her cheeks.

Was this how her service to Ylisse going to end…?

_A failure of a knight._

She had failed Chrom, failed Sumia, failed Phila and her fallen comrades.

_They threw their lives away and bet on me. _And here she was: bereft of her armor and bearing the shame of having been disgraced in the presence of many.

They had died in vain, the late sisters of her order.

A knock on her door reminded her that she should not linger in the capital for long. Pushing her feet and hands to move, she began to dart about the room, packing what little things she had stored there during the one year stay after the war had ended. Where would she go? She had no destination in mind; no relatives of her were known to her.

A sound of a small object being thrown to her window made her freeze. She walked toward the closed window, on high alert now. A small stone was flung again, and it bounced off the wooden frame harmlessly. Slowly and carefully, standing with her back glued to the wall, she opened the window.

Another stone came through. Bigger this time, almost the size of a child's palm. Cordelia waited. A minute. Two. No more stones followed suit.

She eyed the stone that was now lying motionless on the floor. She touched it, and saw that there was a paper wrapped around the stone. She unwrapped it. Her room was dark—she hadn't bothered to light a lamp, but there was no mistaking of the red stamp that was at the right bottom of the paper.

It was the seal of Ylisse. The Grand Master's, to be precise.

"_Come to the west forest of Ylisstol. Don't let the guards see where you go."_

Only those words were inscribed there. There was nothing more on the other side of the paper.

What could he possibly want from her now? With scattered thoughts and a drumming heart she finished packing and went out of the room, draping a traveling cloak around her shoulders. The guards were with her until she left the gates of Ylisstol, and when she was sure she was out of their sight, she broke into a run.

It was an hour before midday but the sun was nowhere to be seen. Gray clouds had covered the sky and the air had cooled. She followed the trail leading to the forest, and didn't have to go far to see the lithe figure of Robin, in a leather jacket and dark trousers, leaning against a tree.

"You," she said, the air leaving her lungs in that one word.

Robin straightened with his hands still buried in his trousers' pockets. "Me."

If glares could kill, the Grand Master's soul would have long departed to the netherworld with his limbs torn. "What do you want?"

"Throwing formality straight out of the window, are we?"

"I am not some underling of yours that you can order around now. Answer: what do you want?"

"Your strength."

Cordelia, still breathless, gaped at the many questions that formed and crashed in her head.

"Now that you are no longer a knight of Ylisse, your strength will be pivotal in getting the Princess and Lady Maribelle back."

'How' was the question that came up next in her mind, but Robin held up a finger to hold it at bay. "I'll explain as we travel." _Travel where? _"Jay," he called out to the cluster of trees to his right, and from there emerged a young boy with two Pegasii, only lightly armored but saddled and packed with bags, trotting behind him.

The boy stumbled over a tee's root as one of the Pegasii neighed and jerked back, likely in protest to the boy's clumsy handling of the reins. "Apologies, My Lord," he said as he unsuccessfully tried to bring them closer to Robin and making a mistake by yanking, "these beasts have not been very…cooperative." Another impatient stomp to the ground answered the boy. He forcefully pulled the reins; the Pegasii flapped their wings in deviance, their tails were swishing violently.

"Stop! You're hurting them!" Cordelia automatically moved to take the reins from the boy, then in a gentler voice spoke soothing words to the Pegasii. She tugged softly at the reins and rubbed one's shoulder on the crest of its mane. Gradually, they relaxed under her touch.

"As much as I want to compliment your impressive job on calming them down, we'd better move before anyone notices my absence," said Robin. Cordelia turned to fix him a stare, but he ignored the daggers and queries in it. "I've clearly stated that explanations can wait." He received a bag from Jay and thanked the boy. "Have you delivered the letters?"

"Yes. Sir Gaius, Sir Kellam, and Lady Tharja have already departed. The others are going to leave at the time you have instructed, My Lord."

_The Shepherds?_ It was true she hadn't seen a Shepherd during the trial and the span from her return to the castle until now. Was it Robin's doing? The list of questions that she'd need to ask to the Grand Master expanded with the thought.

"Good. Run back to the castle and do as we've planned now."

The boy nodded and ran back, following the pathway Cordelia had trailed.

Robin approached one of the Pegasii and brushed the side of its muscled neck. "Care for a fast tutorial?"

"You've never ridden a Pegasus before?"

"I have. Twice. Almost fell both times."

"It is not a skill to be mastered in a day."

"I do not intend to master it. I just want a safe ride."

Thinking that the day could possibly not get any more confounding, she sighed and let memories guide her tongue to chant the same words she had repeated over and over to new recruits.

* * *

~ x x x ~

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Thanks a bunch for your Reviews over chapter 3! Seriously, your Reviews have greatly energized me! I welcome any thoughts: criticisms, feedbacks, wants, anything. I am basically a newcomer in this fandom (and to the world of Fire Emblem) so I'll be needing the voices of you all to guide me._

_Writing Cordelia is harder than I thought. I experimented with Lucina once and found that she is easier to potray. Maybe I'll properly write a Lucina fic later and post it once it's done (and when daily life is not being a cruel dictator). I am also considering to change the rating to M since there will definitely be some gore in later chapters (and perhaps some adult situation too - note the 'perhaps'). What are your thoughts, guys? And…magic! Who doesn't love magic? Some of you have commented on Robin's experiments with magic and so far, they're quite constructive! I am planning on continuing Robin's exploits of it further, in a non-godly way as possible as to not make him an overly strong character, and so, feedbacks and suggestions are welcome. PS: More FE:A characters are going to appear soon, so stay tuned!_

_[The OC boy's name, Jay, is a tribute to Suzanne Collins!]_

_Chasticot: glad to hear that she isn't OOC! It's one of my greatest fears in writing canon characters... | drunkdragon: at odds it is. Their interaction is just fun to write. You too, update fast, kay? ;) | Flipnhaole: thankies a bunch! That's the idea - realism. It's hard but it's what I try to after in this fic, seeing that the game is quite...jovial. | shippaocchan: does this do? ;) | Squaco: a genius mind calls for ingenious ideas, I guess? | Blue masked raider: a bit unfair on her, hm? I guess life can be sometimes. *cackles madly* | The W23AC: tension leads to a more interesting relationship development, yes? Seeing that Rob's nowhere near mischievous or smiley guy, I guess that is true for both of them. | Shouhei T3: you, mister, has just read my mechanism in writing [angst]. Gotta agree with you! | Lazullee: they will appear, so just wait for the chapters to come :) | Eleven Stars: yes, the original idea belongs to hiromu arakawa - one of the few genius authors whose works I totally adore. ;3 | Shizuka no Hana: thank you for the lovely review! It keeps my spirit high! | frigga soul: everything takes time. I guess. *insert evil laughter here* But, yes, Maribelle's bound to be soooo fed up. | Coalacious: steep and narrow path calls for an adventurous climb. Or a free fall. | Razorral: ah, the sound of trumpet is urging me to write the next chapter. Please, let me sleep... for a while... | Blood Stained 91: Keep reading then! And thankies for the review! | Simba Sam: I'm working on it on the next chapters! Thank you for your input! | Narzz: Ohh, hello there! So good to see readers from my old works! Nowi and the other cast of FE:A will make their debut in the chapters to come, I promise you that ;) | Oblique Moon: Fast update it is! | CapnStarSparoow: thank you! I'll definitely do!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Light._

_He could see the stream of sunlight streaming through the large windows by the royal library._

_No. Not 'see.' He could feel it…feel the warmth that enveloped him, feel the trickle of spring breeze as he seated himself on a table near a window, feel the chair creak a bit under his weight, and his fingertips touching the yellowing pages of a book he had picked from an open shelf._

_His mind shut all sensations down when it began to absorb the content of the book. It was written in Old Ylissean. The language that had perished hundreds of years ago and was barely spoken now. Bits of it were carried over to the one people spoke in, the grammar system remained roughly the same, but there were words he couldn't understand, also phrases he could not fathom._

_"Reading again, Rob?"_

_A voice so soft would never startle a man. He looked up from his book, met the smiling eyes of the Exalt._

_"Your Grace." He made a move to stand and curtsy but Emmeryn laid a hand to his shoulder and gently pushed him back to his seat. Her slender figure standing so close, he could smell the faint scent of irises coming from the silk and fine linen wrapping her body. Her golden hair, long and beautiful, blew softly as she took a seat beside him, nearest to the window._

_"What is it that you're reading?" she asked, leaning closer to the book for inspection. He instinctively drew his seat back to allow her some room. "Ah. The book of old magic and talisman."_

_"You've read it, Your Grace?"_

_"Yes." Her eyes roamed over the open pages, and when they moved to look at his he found it hard not to be captured by the hazel orbs. They glowed in the sunlight, golden hues taking over the deeper brown, like a drop of honey that glinted under the faintest of light. He must have showed the small confusion that rose from her affirmation, for her smile grew wider. "You will succumb to books ranging in themes from basic farming to poetry when you are kept in a castle for long. I even dived my nose into ones about swordplay and tales of witches and beasts."_

_The brief story of the late Exalt and how he had ruled with fear. He had heard. Said Exalt had been the one to push the nation of Plegia into taking up arms to defend their beliefs. Said Exalt had commanded that his children were to be trained in the arts of war and politics for the sole purpose of winning—if not prolonging—the war. "I…see."_

_Sensing his tentativeness to broach the subject, Emmeryn returned her attention to the book and trailed the edges with long, dainty fingers. "Has someone taught you to read Old Ylissean?"_

_"No, Your Grace. I was self-taught. But my study seems to have not accommodated for a thorough read of any books in the language," he was quick to add._

_"I can teach you so you might."_

_That caught him by surprise. "What?"_

_"I can teach you, I said."_

_"But… Aren't you busy, Your Grace? I wouldn't want to take your time while you have already abundant tasks in your hands…!"_

_"It is fine, Rob," she said, eyes crinkling. Was it delight he saw reflected in there? Was it amusement? "On afternoons like this I'm often left to my thoughts alone. There is two hours before the council is resumed."_

_"But—"_

_"Do you want to learn, Rob?"_

_He paused in mid-protest at the question and that made Emmeryn chuckle. "Oh, pardon me. It's just, for a moment, you really looked like Chrom when he was promised a new toy sword when he was little."_

_Heat crept to his face—part of it came from embarrassment, though the other part, he knew, came not from the likes. "Please don't tease me…"_

_"I apologize. I must say I was tempted." She pushed the book nearer to him, the subtle smile that always graced her lips was back in place. "Which part still troubles you?"_

_Grateful for the quick flick on the subject, his mind began to focus again. "Ah. This one phrase here… I'm afraid I have never heard of the words—…"_

* * *

**Chapter 05**

**Respite**

* * *

They had to travel two miles northwest first on the beasts' feet before finally taking off. Robin had insisted that they were to remain under the trees' cover as to not rouse alarm. The Pegasii, after all, had been 'requested' by the Grand Master for 'practical purposes' that one should not inquire about.

Robin had managed to grasp the basics of mounting a winged horse in the short time span of an hour. An hour full of near-falls and awkward kicks and snarls and confused neighs from the mount. Though his stance still looked unsure, it was somewhat passable as long as he didn't start free-falling from the fifty feet altitude in which they were flying. As much as Cordelia wanted to take them higher into the sky, she knew she couldn't risk it. Not when traveling with a man who had just learned how to ride a Pegasus and the dark clouds that were hanging low above them.

They had been flying for two hours straight now, in a relatively slow pace, when finally Cordelia decided that, perhaps, the numerous questions swirling in her head would again have to be kept to herself. At least for the time being.

Behind her, Robin was having quite a severe sneezing fit.

Cordelia sighed. Until they landed, she decided. Until then, she would be patient and play along in whatever plans Robin had.

Another sneeze.

"How further is it until we reach our destination?" she asked, half-shouting so her voice wouldn't lose to the strong wind.

"Half a mile, give or take—" He sneezed again, then softly grumbled under his breath.

"I suggest we land and proceed on ground." She was suggesting the idea out of pity and efficiency, and maybe, her own sanity. Hearing him sneezing for the past thirty minutes had given her a hard time stifling her laughter at first, and much irritation as time carried on. The cloak he had draped over himself did not seem to be enough to keep him warm, and to be honest, she felt at least a little of what he was going through. A little because years of flight had made her resilient to the cold wind's bite, and for the fact she was not clad in her usual armor. She felt vulnerable without the feel of hard steel enveloping her body.

She heard Robin mutter something, incomprehensible due to the sneezes, but she took it as a yes nonetheless. She skillfully drew the reins and her Pegasus began its graceful descend towards the barren land below them. Robin copied her movements with moderate success: his mount gave a violent jerky stop before finally lowering itself and glided downwards. Hers landed to the grassy ground smoothly. Robin almost tumbled off the saddle when his did.

She observed him righting his position with slight amusement. "It is not every day one gets to see the Grand Master of Ylisse cursing that much," she noted.

Robin scowled at her. "Would you even believe that I dozed off for a minute or two?" He sounded irritated.

"Yes. On extensive travels there are cases of riders falling from their saddles and crashing to the ground. And, no, I'm not kidding," she said after seeing Robin's expression of horror. There were not many maneuvers in flying when travelling, and the wind plus the low temperature might just lull riders to sleep, especially if they were worn and exhausted like Robin was.

"Thank you for the information," Robin dryly remarked. He urged his Pegasus into a trot and Cordelia followed. From under his cloak he produced a folded map and studied it. "It shouldn't be too far now. There is a village nearby where we could purchase some of the things we need."

Cordelia had seen from above that they had traveled past the Northroad. Judging from the direction in which Robin was leading them, she'd say that they were going to the borders of Ferox and maybe well past the country governed by Khans. It was time to ask.

"So, what are the plans?"

"Find the village, buy supplies, take off and continue northwest still."

She rolled her eyes. "I noticed that much."

"So you did." There was dryness to his tone as much as there was irritation quelling inside of Cordelia.

"Tell," she demanded, voice dropping cold.

"You just need to know where we are going for now and no more than that."

Her mind did a quick calculation based on the few words of information he had given. Past the borders then. And possibly 'northwest still' just as he'd put it. "Port Ferox?" she realized, voicing her thought aloud.

Robin did not acknowledge her guess nor did he deny it. Something in the way his shoulders relaxed and his insistence on staring ahead told her that whatever information he held from her was going to be revealed in time. "I shall not press further." _For now_. "But you have promised me explanations." What was left unsaid that she would demand such explanations in a precisely forceful way if she had to.

He seemed to catch this, for he had turned to face her and was widening his eyes as would a bewildered child unto his angry parent. "I have, yes. If you do not trust me at least to that extend, why ride at my side?"

Because this was the only thing that she could do, because she did not know how else she could atone for her mistakes, because, however absurd and shameful it was to admit, his words had given her hope. He had said that he needed her strength. That was more than enough. She was not a knight anymore, not a member of the Shepherds; she was nobody. The punishment that the court had seen fit was that of banishment. She had nowhere to go, no one to turn to now that some of the few she was close to had lain in eternal rest and the only one left was far away. In one plain phrase, she had been—and still was—desperate. It hurt her pride to think of the word, but then the moments of her armor being stripped of her body with dozens pairs of eyes as witnesses flashed before her, and she thought her pride couldn't be wounded worse. She let Robin's question hung in the air.

A ray of sunlight that broke through heavy layer of clouds brought her attention to the present. The clouds were not giving any indication of pouring water upon them anytime too soon, but they had also yet to depart completely. At best, it would be an hour or two before a drizzle started, which would undoubtedly evolve into a storm.

"We're near," Robin said.

A cluster of houses and two tower guards stood could finally be seen from afar. It was not a village, surely, for the size it boasted was that of a small town. Robin led them through the front gates, where two guards were standing on duty. "I'll do the talking," was all Robin said when they were nearing the gates.

The guard post was manned by two guards armed with long swords. The town must have be quite a busy one for it to be able to afford fortification of stonewalls, though it was a bit small compared to other towns that specialized in trading.

The two guards stepped out into the road, one of them holding his hand aloft in signal for Robin and Cordelia to stop.

A foolish attempt, Cordelia thought. If they were bandits who came to cause trouble they wouldn't have landed and simply ridden them down.

Robin seemed to also share her thoughts but found more amusement in it more than she did, for his mouth twitched upward before he assumed an impassive look.

"Halt," said one of the guards.

"Peace, men. We're envoys from the capital," Robin said.

The sentry who had signaled them to stop peered suspiciously at them. His eyes were darting between the riders first and their mounts second. Pegasii were mounts of choice for envoys who were in need of a fast travel. Still it was a practice seen unusual since the numbers of Pegasii riders had diminished in the previous war against the Plegians.

"Any letters of identification?"

Robin produced brown envelopes from his cloak and gave them to the guard, saying, "We're travelling north to reach one of the Khans to bring a message from the Grand Master. We took a note of the weather, and chose to search for a place where we could find shelter."

The guard read the letters, his expression unsettled. "You are sent by the Grand Master of Ylisse…" He lifted his eyes to meet theirs, but no indication on letting them pass. "How can we know that the seal is not false?"

Robin dismounted slowly from his Pegasus, and Cordelia finally realized, that up on the walls, well concealed by parapet, there were archers who were ready to shoot at the slightest bit of suspicious behavior. Robin drew from his belt a dagger with its sheath; the movement, albeit slow, made the guards tentatively reach for the hilts of their swords. "This dagger belongs to the Grand Master himself," he said, offering it to the other guard. "You can check the sigil on the pommel."

The second guard took the dagger from Robin and inspected it. The dagger's hilt was made of silver, and embedded on the pommel was an eye. "Distinctly Ylissean in craft," the guard said. His friend looked at it then finally nodded. "You may pass."

Robin received his dagger and letters back and remounted. As they passed the gates, Cordelia murmured, "I didn't know you have such an item of identification."

"It's crafted recently, exactly for this kind of purpose," Robin said. "I was tempted to copy the seal of the Exalt, actually."

At this point, such a sinister thought of crime in the name of efficiency coming from the new Grand Master did no longer shock Cordelia. "What made you resist the temptation?"

"Respect for the deceased." His voice made it a point that the matter was closed, and Cordelia did not probe.

It was not dusk yet but the townsmen and women had mostly retreated into the safe clutch of any roofed buildings. No one wanted to be out to be caught up in a rain. Robin and Cordelia searched for an inn, and soon found one near the heart of the town. What Cordelia hadn't expected was to hear a familiar voice greeting her by the stables' gate.

"Glad to see you two in one piece," said a low voice that belonged to Kellam.

Shocked, Cordelia, who was in the process of dismounting from her Pegasus, almost tripped and fell face first to the ground. She managed to find footing soon enough before none could happen. She turned around to see the gigantic man who was wrapped in plain clothing of brown. "Kellam!" she exclaimed. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, and for the hundredth time, Cordelia wondered how long he had been standing in the spot where he was now.

Robin dismounted from his mount and gave the reins to a stable boy who rushed to help them with the Pegasii. "Good to see you too, Kellam."

"Hullo, Rob." He nodded to the silver-haired man.

"You've done everything I asked?"

Kellam drew his body to its full, towering, height. His eyes, Cordelia noted for the first time, almost glinted in pride. '_Nobody has really paid much attention to me… Nobody has trusted me with important things before_,' she could hear him chant back the words he had said once. Having a rare talent of being hard to spot was advantageous when enemies were present; the same could not be said when in the company of friends. "Yes, Rob. I have booked a room for each of you and prepared everything else. Oh, and about the report you asked…just open the drawer right beside the bed. I've written down what I've found."

"Nice job. Presuming that the lady here will want to shop for certain things, I shall go inside to rest first," he said, giving the big man a friendly pat on the arm.

When Robin had gone into the inn, Cordelia asked, "Let me guess: he told you not to tell me anything."

Kellam scratched his head, looking apologetic. "Sorry."

"No, it's all right. It's not your fault," she said softly. If it was anyone's, it was _his_, she thought while throwing a look that would make the proudest recruits bow in discomfort at the mute walls of the inn where Robin had disappeared into. She promised to herself that she would coax everything from him eventually. Looking up, she saw that the clouds had blackened considerably. "We've probably got only minutes now, but," she hated to say it, truly, "Robin's right: I do want to purchase certain things before going in. Do you know where the blacksmith of this town resides?"

"Ah, yes, I know. It's down that road there and you need to take a turn to…uh, I can just take you there, if you don't mind my company."

Feeling a bit warmer inside after knowing that she would have a companion to talk to other than the Grand Master who had retired to the inn and the Pegasii, she smiled, for the first time in the long day. "I'd be _delighted_, Kellam. Let's go."

* * *

\- A -

* * *

The inn was quite packed with people, just as he had predicted. In this time of year, merchants and farmers would be travelling extensively to sell whatever goods they had harvested from the season before. The village, or rather, town, was situated near the borders of Ferox and near to main roads connected to Ylisse, and such was the reason why he had picked the place to resupply and rest. People came and went here, no one would bother to remember faces of brief passbyers.

Robin had ordered that dinner was to be brought to his room an hour from now. He went to the room Kellam had booked then, and upon entering it, saw the figure of a woman sitting on a chair by the closed window. Despite the darkness that was engulfing the modest bedroom, there was no mistaking of who she was. Even when clad in simple clothing the woman looked every inch like a seductress; men with functioning eyes and brains would never miss the way the line of how her body sloped in a curvy road down her waist and to her thighs.

"Tharja," Robin greeted, closing the door behind him and locking it.

The black mage rose from her seat, putting aside a book she had been reading. "You are unwell, Robin."

Robin shrugged off of his cloak and jacket. "That's your greeting?"

"You are fatigued and under a lot of stress."

A note of observation or a successful attempt in spying? Tharja was known for her strange methods of gathering intel—or stalking, in that matter—that would even put a trained spy to shame. "An exaggeration," he dismissed. His boots came off next and he lighted one oil lamp before sitting on the bed. "What of the things I've asked you?"

"All done. I have gained some information from the rumors around. They have traveled northwest disguised as merchants—no blond women among them. I suspect their hair had simply been dyed. They took off from the borders of Ferox two days ago."

Two days. Robin hated how far they were from their targets. Even if they had the Pegasii, it was unlikely that they would be able to catch up with Lissa's kidnappers before they reached the port. He glanced at the window, at the darkness outside, and his mood worsened. If only they didn't have to wait for the storm to pass by…

Tharja seated herself beside him, then her hand moved quickly to snatch his right arm, unrolled the sleeve and drew a sharp breath. "These are—!"

"Magic symbols and runes, yes," Robin said, mind suddenly tiring. His body was heavy with exhaustion. He felt sick to the bones, his muscles were aching, and his sight dimming; perhaps the flight had truly taken a toll on him.

"You… Do you know how dangerous is it to carve symbols upon human body?" Her tone was low and her words came out almost like a snake's hiss. Were it not for the months of travel they'd done together, Robin would have missed the concern that was giving an edge to her voice.

"Miriel had told me, but I did it nonetheless." He saw her expression darken then added, "I've tried some spells. They worked out nicely."

Tharja's black eyes disdainfully lingered on the runes and her grip on his arm tightened. "Dangers do not only come from casting spells. There are some cases in which the mages who had done this…this wretched method had their magic gone out of control after repeated use."

"I've drawn some symbols here to prevent that from happening." He pointed to the small suns along the line of runes that had been circled with tiny words of incantations meant for protection. They were the same incantations healers had scribbled on their tomes' pages. "I think it should prevent my magic from going out of control, as you put it."

"Have you eaten?"

The question was so abrupt and absurd that Robin almost laughed. "No, but I've ordered much for dinner. A big platter of smoked beef meat and sautéed potato."

Tharja brushed the ink on his skin and pressed at one of the suns—and Robin, startled, felt as if energy was drawn out of him and flew back into him. He blinked at the woman. "What have you just—"

"You've lost your appetite." It was not a question. "Your mind tells that you that want to eat, needs to eat, but your body does not signal you of hunger. When you look at food or think of food, you will want it but after a spoonful or two your body will tell you that you don't need it. That's exactly my point when I say that the dangers are not limited to spell-casting."

He was speechless for a moment, never having considered his lack of appetite as a side effect, if you could call it that, of the magic tattoo. He'd thought that it had all resulted from his lack of sleep or stressed mind. Dimly he remembered the untouched tray of food Jay had brought to his chambers and the breakfast he'd skipped. "You're telling me that the tattoo fools my senses?"

"Not only that," she said, and disgust could be seen across her features as she stared down at the black and red inks, "it also belittles your other needs and continually draws magic from you. In a very little amount, yes, but… I don't need to tell you how devastating it can be." Tharja lifted her eyes to meet his. "Let me do something to fight these effects."

"You can? How exactly?"

"Reversing the way of the incantations work by putting a curse on you."

Robin would have scoffed at the idea if he hadn't spent hours discussing magic and hexes with Tharja beforehand. He knew that whatever idea she brought up was born from years of life as a dark mage and powerful ancestry of thick mage blood. If there was any person who would know his or her way around this kind of thing then it would be her. "I trust you," he said. He saw a flicker of emotion flash on her eyes before it disappeared and the orbs cooled. "Do what you can."

She studied his arm intently, reading every chant he had inscribed and figuring out every symbol there. "Suns. Spells of fire…" With a brush of her index finger she traced a line up the length to the elbow and Robin felt a shiver run down his body. Tharja's eyes were focused on his arm but then they closed. "The process will take a while and will be slightly uncomfortable," she whispered. "And you lack rest."

"I don't mind. I've gone through worse on the Pegasus' back."

"No. You will rest."

He half-smiled, partly to reassure her that he was fine and partly due to the irony that he was drawing unwanted sympathy. "It's okay, Tharja. It's not like I will be able to fall asleep the moment I close my eyes anyway."

"Oh. But you will." Without warning she pulled the collar of his shirt and drew his face to hers. Her lips were cold and soft and pliant on his, and he heard, or perhaps imagined, her whispering a word into him. Immediately his eyelids began to close.

Sleep claimed him in the next second.

* * *

\- A -

* * *

The first droplets of water hit the earth just when Cordelia and Kellam were striding their way back to the inn. They hastened their pace, and thankfully, managed to get inside the three-stories building when the rain became worse.

Amongst the purchased things Cordelia had managed to snatch were a leather armor and hair dyes. Leather because she thought that steel armor would attract unnecessary attention, and dyes because the black color of her hair was already fading. Robin had not given any specific instructions and simply relayed a message through Kellam that she could buy whatever she thought she would need with a purse full with coins that Kellam had brought. But given his secrecy regarding their journey, having a pack of dyes in stock would be handy.

The blacksmith had also offered her a rather standard javelin with a reasonable price, which she took after a lot of musing about its balance, weight, and length. It was not in any way near the one she had forced to leave in the capital, but it would make a do. Fighting with a javelin, with a weapon she had known for a lifetime and mastered, was much better rather than with a simple combat knife that Robin had strapped on her Pegasus' saddle. She still made a note to herself to search for a better one in the next town on their travel, though. Or, if time and circumstances allowed, planned to even forge one to suit her tastes and style of fighting.

The ground floor of the building, which served as a tavern, was full of people. The only table that was unoccupied was at the far back of the room, and they moved to it. A serving lady soon came to note their orders—Cordelia's, actually. Kellam's had almost been missed out. Once she was away, Cordelia leaned forward and narrowed her eyes at Kellam.

"They don't know, do they?" she asked.

Kellam tilted his head in puzzlement. "Don't know what?"

She lowered her voice into a whisper. "That the Princess and Lady Maribelle were kidnapped."

It was something she'd noticed on her shopping trip. No mentions of the incident had been brought up by the townswomen and shop keepers. If they knew, they would gossip already, and murmurs about it would be drifting through the entire town. Kellam nodded in understanding and shrugged his massive shoulders. "Only a few do. A few, excluding the council and the Shepherds, I think. Rob's made it certain that it is not leaked."

The relief that Cordelia felt was short-lived. "But their absence will be noted by the people eventually."

"I guess so. That's why Rob's sent out people to spread false rumors? I don't know much about it, but he did say something about implanting false issues before we headed out."

"Combatting truths with lies…" she mused to herself, not sure how to feel about the plan. The knight in her detested the nature of deceitfulness, but a portion of logic and instinct told her that it was the only way to prevent further unrest among the people. The nation had it rough already with bandits and packs of Risen prowling the land. It needed only a little more pressure for it to crack.

Just until Chrom and Sumia returned, she painfully recalled. Wait until they found out, and suddenly she was glad that she wouldn't be present when they both learned who was it the knight who was responsible for the catastrophe.

Perhaps noticing the crease that must have settled between her eyebrows, Kellam spoke. "You shouldn't think too hard about it, Cordelia. I'm sure Rob has thought of things and made plans to deal with them before leaving the capital."

She sent Kellam a withering look. "You really do trust him."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Why—there are many reasons, of course. You know how suspicious his background is, how little information we hold regarding his person." She was speaking in a tone that belittled the anxiety that was pulsing in her veins. "All the people say about him behind his back. How fast he was to rise into the rank of Grand Master."

"But they are rumors. It's what people say and see. It's not what I see." His shrug couldn't be more of a slap than his words were to Cordelia. "I know who Rob is. At least to me. I say what I see, and I say that I can trust him."

Simple. Efficient and to the point. How she wished she could think like that sometimes. "And…what makes you say that?" she asked, curious as well as cautious.

Kellam held three fingers and folded it one by one as he listed: "He sees me. He seeks me. He trusts me."

There was a moment of silence at their table as Cordelia tried and almost failed to process the words. When she found her voice again, they were interrupted by the arrival of their food and drinks. Food consisted of two chunks of freshly-baked bread and a large bowl of steaming soup and a large serving of roasted lamb. Cordelia thanked the serving lady and already Kellam was filling his bowl with soup and tearing the bread.

"I'm sorry," she said as she moved slowly to fill her bowl, eyes watchful of the giant, half-scared that he would disappear from her view due to the lack of sound he made even as he ate prodigiously, and half-taken aback at what he had said concerning Robin. "I do not intend to be rude or to pry into matters. But could you…elaborate?"

Kellam chewed his food then nodded. "Robin sees me. He was the first of the Shepherd to find me and talk to me. He continues to do so, engaging me in conversations. He sought me for the first time to ask me of things I know after serving as Ylissean knight for years, and still does whenever he needs an extra man in info-gathering business." He finished his bread after dipping it into his soup. "And he trusts me enough to give me jobs when patrol duty becomes a bore."

_Such as sending you out on this town to prepare things_, Cordelia thought. Kellam, as if reading it, smiled. "Yeah, this job's one good example," he said. "Nobody's given me important tasks before. It was always guard duty or supply check or some cleaning. And nobody's ever cared." There was fondness seeping into his mild tone when he spoke and crinkles appeared as his eyes smiled with the memories. "Rob's different. He thanks me after a job's done—even when it is my duty and I don't deserve any thanks. Nobody's ever done that. Well, you know… It's… I feel like…like, I'm noticed with him."

She understood how it was like. She understood how it felt to have someone finally come into one's bleak world and bring light into it. It was just, for her, it had been Chrom. It had been Chrom who had captured her heart with his idealism. And it had been Chrom's ideal that had made her proud to raise her spear in the name of Ylisse.

"Umm… Are you not going to eat? The soup's gonna get cold, you know."

"Oh…! Yes… I'm sorry." Realizing that she had been listening without touching her bowl, she quickly ate what was left of the food. They were still somewhat warm, thankfully.

Kellam watched her as she ate, and then, diverting his eyes to the packed tavern, said, "I think there will be no bard performances tonight." He stood and picked up the bags containing the day's swift round of shopping. "Guess I'll be going now to haul these things up to your room upstairs?"

"Thank you, Kellam."

"You're always welcome."

Kellam made a move ambling away from the table. "And," Cordelia said, pausing Kellam in midstep.

He turned to look at her. "Yes?"

She pulled her lips into a smile, one that was brimming with gratitude. "I had a good company, Kellam. May we converse some more next time."

Kellam flashed a wide smile and literally disappeared into the crowd the moment he turned his back and strode amidst the tables.

* * *

~ x x x ~

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Thanks a bunch for your Reviews over chapter 4! I'm sorry I won't be able to reply to them one by one like I used to - blame my hectic schedule. But while some of them are constructive, almost all of them are welcoming the pace and plot of the story and I cannot thank you enough for that._

_No time for babbling, I'm afraid... I have a thesis to finish. Apologies for any errors in this chapter if there's any. I haven't found the time to re-read it properly. *Sobs_


	6. Chapter 6

_647th day._

_Life is a game where possibilities are supposed to be endless. Possibilities give birth to dreams and wishes, to imagination and wonders. You taught me that, and I respect it. For thus was your foundation of hope and ideals._

_It just happens that mine's a little bit different._

_I can only see two possibilities ahead. Neither will please you nor Chrom._

_Still, I'll bet everything I have on this plan. My pieces have moved farther than I imagined; but if I play them right, the board will change._

_For once, I will hope._

* * *

**Chapter 06**

**Castling**

* * *

The room that Kellam had booked for her was medium-sized and dark, the only source of light was a small, flickering candle on a stool at a corner. Harsh wind was raging outside, the sound of storm that was approaching was accompanied by flashes of lightning and distant echoes of thunder.

Cordelia was sitting on the edge of her bed, her fingers toying with the hard leather that was the newly purchased armor that would be a replacement of cold steel that she had rarely parted from. It was a sorry excuse for an armor, she thought. Leather might give her slight advantage in speed and movements, but its protection would not be as sure as steel's. She had only tried to don it once at the blacksmith to make sure that it would fit her figure, and even then she'd felt that it was somehow…wrong. She had never donned a leather armor before. In her trainee days, it had been a modest steel armor. Modest, but steel nonetheless. The cold grip of its form enveloping her body had always felt secure.

Never had she imagined the day where she would don an armor not made of steel would come.

Now that she had a quiet time to be alone with her thoughts the grip of guilt that had clutched onto her heart felt as if doubled in strength. The scene where she had discovered the dead bodies of the knights laying limply on the forest floor was replaying in her mind. The notion that she had lost Princess Lissa and Lady Maribelle struck her again like a blow in the face. She had failed. She had miscalculated.

What worth is a knight who can't even be trusted to keep her masters safe?

"Cordelia."

A familiar voice and a knock on her door snapped her out from her somber thoughts. The voice was feminine; soft. Familiar.

Again it spoke, "Cordelia? Can I come in?"

It couldn't be…

Was it… Sumia?

Quickly she rose to her feet, placing the leather armor at the side of her bed and rushed to open the door.

It _was _Sumia who was standing in front of her door. For a moment, all logic failed Cordelia. Sumia was not supposed to be this far from the capital; here, in all places, in a town near the borders of Ferox. The Queen of Ylisse was in knight armor, and her face was contorted with both grief and worry.

"Cordelia, I have heard," Sumia spoke, her voice so soft it was almost like a whisper.

There was no mistaking of the sadness that was apparent in her eyes. And Cordelia, whose mind was a chaotic jumble of incoherent thoughts, could only avert her gaze. She had heard. Of course. Sooner or later she would. Hoping that Cordelia could escape from the truth by going along with Robin's plan was absurd.

"Is that why you're here?" Cordelia asked, her voice dropping low.

Sumia took a step forward to enter the poorly lit room, and Cordelia permitted her entry. "Lissa is someone dear to me," she slowly spoke.

"I know." Lissa was Sumia's sister-in-law. But even without that status the two were close, having so many shared traits that many found loveable. When the two were together, topics would never run out and giggles would always trail behind them.

"She is a precious sister. Maribelle too."

Cordelia dragged her gaze from the floor to Sumia's form. Her friend's voice had changed. She had never heard Sumia speaking in such a cold, accusing tone like that. "I—"

"You've failed me." The brown eyes, usually filled with laughter and warmth, were now dark with repressed anger. They looked wounded. "You failed to protect them."

Before Cordelia could react, through the open door, strode in Chrom. His face was mirroring his wife's, though in the dark blue orbs Cordelia could see a flash of rage that he didn't bother to conceal. "It was wrong of me to entrust you with my family's safety," he spat.

The words were laced with a good dose of bitterness that made Cordelia stagger a few steps back. _No…_ "I—I didn't realize that we were going to be ambushed…" she tried to speak, but her voice was too weak that it lost to the sound of the storm outside.

_Not them…_

Her legs were giving away. The imagination of what her encounter would be like with Sumia and Chrom after they were told of the news was made real in this very second: the two persons she held dearest were standing in her room's doorway, eyes dark with resentment, faces grim with anger. In all scenarios she had thought of this was the worst outcome she had been too scared to imagine. Their resentment, their _real _accusation, was a something she knew that would leave her broken beyond repair. Sumia, whose company she had always cherished; a friend so loving she had often wondered how a pure soul like her had taken a liking to her.

And Chrom.

Chrom, the man who had brought light to her desolate world.

Chrom, whose ideals and dreams she strived to make true, whose presence alone gave her strength to lift her spear…

"I've put too much faith in you," the Exalt said, and Cordelia's shut her eyes as coldness stabbed her chest. _Don't say it—_ "You are a disappointment."

Sumia took another step forward in a deliberate way; her face was impassive—the expression she wore was none that Cordelia had seen before. "I've overestimated you. You, whom I admired. You, whose feats drew praises from the whole realm."

Chrom joined Sumia by taking a step to stand beside her—and it hurt. Seeing him standing so close beside her best friend, poised like a solid knight he was, his sword-hand twitching to reach the grip of Falchion. "You are a failure of a knight."

The cold surface of the window met Cordelia's back. The uneven surface of the woodwork felt oddly real, the glass freezing. "I… I'm—"

From behind Chrom, there appeared Phila in her Pegasus Knight armor, just as Cordelia had last remembered her. On the front of her chest guard though, there was a smear of blood.

"Captain—?!"

"You are a disappointment indeed," the blue-haired woman said. The voice Cordelia would always remember as gentle and firm, belonging to the woman who had inspired and taught her everything she knew, was now tinted with coldness and indifference she had used against foes. "I have misjudged your ability."

Sumia stopped two steps away from her. "We should have never trusted you."

"No—!"

Cordelia opened her eyes and drew in a sharp breath.

What she saw was only the ceiling of her room.

Her breaths shortly came in gasps, and a second later she realized that her cheeks were wet with tears. Despite the low temperature, her clothes and hair stuck to her skin, a sign that she'd been sweating profusely. Blindly she sat up and threw her gaze at the door.

It was closed. Locked. With no one standing before it.

No Sumia. No Chrom.

No Phila.

It had been…a dream?

Cordelia tried to control her ragged breathing. Her hands were trembling, and she clutched them together, held them close to her drumming heart, hoping that the tremor would subside.

The room was dimly lit like in the dream, yes, but the storm had seemed to pass, leaving behind only a soft patter of rain. The air was cold and darkness still reigned. It was probably two or three hours before daybreak, but she didn't trust her mentality to go back to sleep.

'_You are a disappointment.'_

The words were still ringing so clear in her ears. Even as she closed her eyes she could practically hear them being chanted over and over by the ghosts of her own fears. The acidic taste that had been burning her throat and the hotness at the back of her eyes would have spilled more tears. Only that she had no more to shed.

Of all the things that had been haunting her the unconscious had presented her with her biggest fear. Their rejection had been too much to bear. The dream had struck too close.

_Get a hold of yourself_. Cordelia tried to shake those unpleasant feelings off—with little success. But, no, she wouldn't linger in the pit of despair, lest she wanted to lose herself to events that had yet to pass. She would face Chrom and Sumia one day, she knew. But that one day was yet to arrive, and for the present time, she had a task. A mission, so to speak.

_A mission you know barely anything of_, her logic sneered with contempt.

While it may be true that Robin was a person she would not be willing to trust overnight, his battle plans in the past had proven to bring victories. She still wasn't sure what he had meant by all of this, but seeing Kellam here had ignited a small spark of hope that this mission, or whatever it was that the Grand Master had in mind, was a serious deal that had been meticulously planned. If Robin planned something, then he must have seen a chance in obtaining his goal. It meant that there was a possibility of getting Princess Lissa and her friend back, however slim it was.

But what role she had to play in this plan of his was still something the man kept from her. He would need her, he'd said. Apart from that, he hadn't stated anything else. The old soul of a knight within her would obey all orders without questions, but her conscience was nagging at the back of her mind. Never had she met a commander so puzzling—a commander whose ideas would test her patience and rationality, no less.

No longer wanting to sit idly and be a victim to her own confusion, she got off the bed and pushed herself to her feet. They were weak, unsteady. Gritting her teeth, she mustered all her strength to stride as quickly as possible to the brass basin placed atop a desk across the room. The cold water it contained did a magic that she sought. It wiped the dry tears off her face, woke her mind, washed the remnants of the dream away. She emptied a jug of water to clear the lump in her throat and felt quite a lot better.

A soft knock on her door. Dimly, Cordelia wondered of who would be insane enough to come to her room in such an hour before opening it.

A pair of shadowed black eyes stared into hers.

Cordelia blinked. "Tharja?"

"You are expected by Robin at the stables," the mage curtly said.

Had she been here all along, with Kellam? She was sure she hadn't seen another Shepherd in town. "I didn't know you were here."

A faint shrug of slender shoulders. "You didn't. That's the point."

'The point in what' was what Cordelia about to ask, but Tharja sharply cut in by saying, "A minute you waste by conversing with me will be better spent by preparing yourself for your journey."

Cordelia had not really interacted much with Tharja during their travel with the Shepherds, but she knew that talking back to Tharja bore a risk of being hexed. No, not to death; maybe a few hours of skin irritation or the likes. Some of the men had suffered various diseases of baffling effects when they had displeased her. Being hexed after suffering from a nightmare attack was the last thing Cordelia wanted, and so, she quickly did as she was told while the woman in black stood waiting by the door, looking at all uninterested in Cordelia's hasty efforts in washing herself and preparing.

At the task of donning her armor of leather she paused for a brief second. The lapse surprisingly enticed a comment from Tharja. "Wise choice. Traveling in heavy gears might attract prying eyes."

"You would have hexed me if I did buy a steel armor?"

"No. I would have cursed you so you would forever be allergic to anything made of metal."

Cordelia let her mouth curl up to form a smile. "It's assuring to have a companion as caring as you are."

"I was hoping that I would get the chance, actually."

"Pity you wouldn't." She wasted no more seconds to fit into the suit, and despite feeling a bit anxious and strange, she soon found the material to be loosely comfortable. Or close to comfortable as it could get. Leather was obviously more durable than steel, and only now did she realize what perks could she gain from being clad in such a light outfit. She missed the weight of her armor and the sturdiness of steel plates all the same.

Grabbing her javelin, traveling cloak, and strapping her belts and bags, Cordelia was ready in less than five minutes. "I'm done. Lead the way."

Tharja spared her a look as she walked along the dark corridor and to the stairs. "It's good to see you are more practical than meticulous when it needs to be," the mage noted.

"I'm only meticulous when it comes into groups and supplies," Cordelia answered. Taking care of her own person was something that wouldn't take much of her time since she knew exactly what had been done and what was amiss. Things were different with people whom she was not close to.

"Hm. Acceptable."

The two came to the tavern at the base where no one save for the inn keeper was around. Tharja gave the man a bag of coins and the inn keeper gave her a bundle of dark green cloak in return, then she gave the cloak to Cordelia, who stared in puzzlement. "My coat is already rainproof and I am in no need of a change," she said.

"Never is it about rainproof coats. Take yours off and exchange it with this." And as usual, before Cordelia could utter a simple 'Why', Tharja had already silenced her with a glare.

Mutely Cordelia complied.

Tharja then led her out of the inn and into the stables. The rain was light but the air was definitely not suited for a fast travel. It was almost freezing outdoor, and visibility was low due to fog and lingering darkness. But soon she found that the cloak gave her more warmth than was expected, and she wondered if Tharja had enchanted it with some anti-cold spell.

Kellam and Robin were already at the stables. Robin, leaning against a wooden frame while tending to a horse, and Kellam—a tall silhouette in the dark she would have missed had he not moved to greet them—was with the Pegasii. "Wet morning, is it?" Kellam said.

"It is." Cordelia noticed that Robin was clad in the same cloak as hers while Kellam's cloak was similar to the one Robin had worn yesterday. Understanding finally dawned on her. "Ah. You two will be playing decoys?"

"We can't trust the people in foreign towns and villages," Robin said. "It is safe to assume that our movements have been and are being spied upon by the enemy just as we have been and are spying upon theirs."

"We are?" asked Cordelia.

Truthfully she had meant for the rhetorical question to be left ignored or to be dismissed by some sarcastic remark the man had always used to rebuff her questions, but this time Robin did neither. "Why do you think I sent Gaius and Miriel ahead? What?" he demanded. "Don't look so surprised; I'm insulted. What sort of tactician do you think I am?"

Actually she was more surprised that he did answer her question for once. There was something odd with Robin today. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but him replying to her questions was one thing. But in no way was she going to push her luck. Knowing the man's susceptibility to irritability, she knew questions were best to be voiced one at a time. "Apologies," she simply said.

Kellam and Tharja moved to mount the Pegasii, and Cordelia gave a short tutorial on how to properly ride them and taught them the commands of simple aerial maneuvers. They would be able to take off in the rain, but she cautioned them not to fly too high and to land as soon as the wind kicked up. She was fearing more of their Pegasii-handling than the winged beasts' capacity to fly in the rain. Flying might seem simple, but one wrong movement could throw even the most skilled Pegasus rider off balance.

Once they had grasped the basics, Robin opened the stables' gates to let the two ride off. "Send in doves at approximated times we've discussed," Robin said to the two. "If there is a change in plans or routes I will notify you through the same means."

"Understood, Rob." To Cordelia, Kellam nodded and smiled. "Stay safe."

"Thank you, Kellam. And Tharja," she said to the woman. "Stay safe too."

The mage regarded her with a stare that Cordelia would best describe as mildly amused. "That's what hexes and curses are for."

Cordelia could only hope the enigmatic woman wouldn't hex the poor Pegasii.

Tharja's gaze was lingering at Robin. The Grand Master's usually tout lips formed a smile, and Cordelia could at last piece together her earlier note of observation. Robin seemed more…awake today. His gaze sharper, his temperament less tetchy; his posture was showing a little bit more nonchalance. "I'll do just fine," he said to Tharja. "I'll remember your word of caution."

If the mage was assured by his words, there would be no way of knowing it by her expression alone. A low mutter of 'Fine' was all she said in return.

Robin nodded to the two. "Now ride safely, friends."

The Pegasii stormed out of the stables.

"Now…" Robin turned to the two horses that had been saddled. "If my calculation is right, then we should be able to depart within minutes."

"Northwest still?"

"Northwest still," Robin agreed.

Cordelia took her next step carefully. "By any chance, has Gaius or Miriel informed you of…anything?"

"Gaius has. The Princess and the Lady are alive, if that's your concern."

Only a miniscule of burden felt lifted from her heart. "Are they…"

"Fine?" Robin asked when she stalled. There was an undertone in the way he said it that made Cordelia hold her tongue. "Not that much is currently known, but if they live then there should be reason enough to continue our pursuit. But there is a big chance that they are. The Valmese didn't take them for torturing purposes." Deftly he mounted his horse, and once again his expression flattened. "If you're that worried then you should simply tag along and see for yourself."

Cordelia mounted her horse and steadied her balance. Mounting a horse that had no wings was also something she had not been used to. "I don't mind you withholding information you think is crucial from me. My purpose is only to serve Ylisse. But…"

"But?"

She didn't continue. Robin didn't wait for long. He inclined his head and muttered a soft, "Ahh. 'But'… You do not trust me."

She had let him wonder for himself, to come into a conclusion that stemmed from his own guesses so she would be able to see how he would interpret his own words and actions towards her. Her guess had been right, then. All along he had been purposively circling matters, never quite coming so close as to discuss his next moves or explain the whole mechanisms.

"I do not mind your distrust that much." His speculative tone turned stiff. "When a game is fully understood by every player who participates, won't every battle become futile?"

"That is one twisted view."

He expelled a breath. A mirthless smile that wasn't reaching his eyes played upon his lips. "Your coldness wounds me. If your instinct tells you to distrust me, then by all means, follow it. Do know one thing, though—" from beneath his hood, his eyes narrowed as they stared hard. "Princess Lissa and her friend are dear to me, as much as the Exalt and his wife are to you. I treasure the royals as my very first friends, and I," he dropped his voice low, and in that moment Cordelia felt, rather than saw, a wave of heat blazed as Robin tightened his hold on the reins; faint as it was, it made his horse neigh uncomfortably, "don't turn my back on those whom I cherish."

In the seconds that passed, low temperature seeped back into the stables. Cordelia, who had unconsciously gripped her own mount's reins tight, loosened a bit and felt as if there was a veil in her mind that prevented her from trying to wonder what exactly had happened. Wast it...magic? Or was it something else entirely? She couldn't be too sure. Straightening her posture as well as blinking away whatever tricks or illusions that the Grand Master might have cast, she said, "I shall trust your motives. For now."

Robin gave a mock-salute. "That is more than what I could ask for, My Lady."

"And so prone are you to insults and mockery."

"If you have known me that much, you might as well as adapt." Robin had said it with a slight widening of his eyes.

With him, she always had this feeling that the man was mocking and measuring her at the same time. Each reply was designed to entice her, to draw out her emotions to the surface; each gesture and change in expression seemed to have one sole purpose of prompting her to backlash.

She didn't like it.

And they had only been stuck together for one day.

She forced herself to look unaffected. "A good suggestion."

"Now that you have taken it to heart, may we also ride off."

Swiftly he kicked his horse into gallop and out into the foggy morning.

This was better, she decided as rode after him. Being stuck with him was better than facing Chrom or Sumia—better than wandering aimlessly without any goals in mind or living in shame for the rest of her days. But it was not like she would be a willing pawn in his game. She would play along, yes. But while she was at it she would learn how he played.

* * *

\- A -

* * *

The morning upon his return to the capital, Chrom literally jumped from his mount when the castle gates were opened from him.

Ignoring the wary eyes of the guards he ran into the building, traced the steps to the throne room, then bustled through the doors, Frederick and Stahl catching up behind him. The only persons there were two ministers and a steward, who jumped at his sudden, unannounced, entrance.

"Tell me," Chrom said, his breaths coming in and out too fast, "what is the meaning of this?" He held out the short letter he had received three days before that had made him ride home as fast as he could.

"That's, Your Highness—" a minister attempted to explain, but it was cut short by Chrom.

"I've heard, so cut your nonsense!" the Exalt half-shouted. Adrenaline was pulsing through his veins and he couldn't ease the tightness in his stomach that made him into a ball of nerves. "I don't care how it happened! What news of my sister?"

"Safe, Your Highness. Taken hostage, but safe."

To his surprise, the one who had answered him was none other than the servant boy. Chrom directed his glare at him. Before Frederick could say anything about the impropriety of talking to the Exalt when not directly addressed, the boy had resumed with an uncanny calmness the twitching ministers beside him did not possess. "Lord Robin and the Shepherds are in pursuit of the Valmese who have taken Princess Lissa and Lady Maribelle hostages, Your Highness. The Grand Master has divided the Shepherds into parties and sent them each with different tasks."

"Robin has…" Chrom shut his eyes. Calm down. Calm _the hell _down. He opened them again and curled and uncurled his fists. "Robin's in pursuit?" he asked when he regained his cool.

"Yes," the boy assured.

"And who might you be?" Frederick inquired.

"Lord Robin's servant, My Lord. My name is Jay. He's tasked me to deliver letters and reports from the castle to the Shepherds who have gone out."

A series of thoughts came and clashed in Chrom's head. There were so many things he needed to know, he needed to confirm. He settled on, "There's a chance of getting Lissa back. Is it?"

The boy nodded. "The Valmese has taken Princess Lissa and Lady Maribelle in hopes of trading them with something that is in the haildom's possession."

"Those dirty bastards," Stahl muttered under his breath.

"Lord Robin is sure that as long as we are showing a positive sign that we are to accept their request the hostages will not be harmed," continued Jay.

"And what is this thing that they demand from us?" asked Chrom.

"That, Your Highness, is solely known only by the Grand Master and the boy," one of the ministers said with a shake of his head. "He was persistent on leaving us in the dark."

Jay quickly did a bow. "My deepest apologies, Your Highness, but I am not permitted by the Grand Master to tell a soul, lest his plan be foiled."

Chrom considered this. He knew Robin, had known him for quite some time, and despite not understanding the way his mind worked sometimes, he knew well enough that when the man kept secrets from him was when he had a goal in mind. When he had something to utilize. "What now, then?"

The ministers looked startled by how easily Chrom went along with what Jay said. "Your Highness!" the oldest of them spoke. "You must not be so hasty!"

"If Robin has a plan then all we can do is to go along with it," Chrom said, feeling impatient once. "He and I have stood side by side for more than two years and I know what kind of person he is. Ylisse has not tasted bitter defeat against the Plegians—I should attribute our victory to his ingenious ideas." That silenced the ministers. To Jay, Chrom gestured so he would speak.

"The Grand Master sent a letter this dawn through a Shepherd, Sir Kellam, just an hour ago. He said that he is on the move towards Port Ferox and that he needs your assistance in approaching the Khan of the West."

Basilio? "For what purpose?"

"Snuggling the Shepherds into the territory of Valm, Your Highness." Jay looked at Frederick and Stahl to include them when he mentioned the word 'Shepherds.' His gaze swiveled back to Chrom. "Led by you."

Chrom's bewilderment peaked at this. "I am to lead an army into the land of Valm?"

"At the approximated time, yes. The Shepherds who have gone their way will disguise themselves as persons of little import."

"Wait," said Frederick. "You're telling us that Robin does not plan on catching up with the Valmese?"

"No. He plans to cross the sea and conduct the trade in their territory."

"Did he tell you why?" Frederick asked.

"So Lissa and Maribelle will be kept safe," Chrom answered for Jay. "If they were to catch up with the Valmese and say, ambush them on the way, there's no guarantee that they wouldn't slit their hostages' throats in defense." Even thinking about it made his blood run cold. With some difficulty he pushed the horrid image away. "Tell, Jay: what will we be doing as we wait for this…approximated time?"

At that the boy's black eyes glinted in the very same way Robin's would when he was about to present a hidden card up on his sleeve. Jay unfolded a brown paper that was a map that had been tucked under his tunic. It was of Valm. "Now, Your Highness, we strategize."

* * *

~ x x x ~

* * *

_**A/N: **__Due to thesis, thesis, and thesis, I can't promise a fast update. Just to be safe expect me to update / 2 weeks or 3... *sobs*_

_Coalacious: finally she does ;) it's very interesting to write such an enigmatic character | drunkdragon: it will develop, their misunderstandng, one way or the other... we're talking about Robin, we're talking about his shadow. | Simbasam: Kellam's funny to write too! I'm happy that there are readers who are amused by his talent as much as I am. | nathanrichardson1997: it should be me thanking you for reading and reviewing :D | Vivaldino: I owe the sneezing part to a good experience up in a cold place... misery. | blissford angel: thank you for sharing your thoughts! They mean a lot to me. | Like A-boo: You know what, I need some MEGA luck on that. *goes back to my thesis docs and pouts* | gransworthX: thank you for reviewing too! | RutsybladeR: her methods are indeed strange and unconventional, yes? Such is the reason why she has a lot of fans? | EveBlaze14: I totally agree with you. I do hope to see more of Em-Rob fics coming ;( | Guest: The route is steep but I'm up for it! | Zen Kazushi: Why, so many praises! Can't thank you enough! Writing a fic based on a game with many humors and comedic effects in a serious tone is indeed a challenge. Hope it's enjoyable still! | Lazullee: glad you like their entrances to the story! I'll strive to do better :) | ShakeSoda: worry not, there will be plenty of those, I promise. | Heinz: exactly. It's open to interpretation. Hahaha | shippaocchan: just stay tuned and wait until they appear eh? ;) | Blue masked rider: could be. Could be not. 'M not telling. *whistles* | InkShaw: so good to see her getting a warm greeting. I'll write more of her. | Shaded C-071: they will appear in time, don't worry. And yes, I understand what you mean :( | Shouhei T3: continue, I will. ASAP I can't guarantee... My thesis... where is my thesiss... | Capn StarSparoow: he is indeed a workaholic, hm? but working on rob's magic is truly refreshing, so I hope it is enjoyable :) | XC Zh-4: thank you so much! may you tear up some more (?) | Lucious Vayne: thank you for pointing those out, sir! your words mean a lot to me. A writer can only get better through feedbacks and comments after all. | INISU: you know what, it is your review that made me include Emm in the character search engine... | Razorral: impossible indeed ;) thank you for reviewing though! | Ianthee: and so good to meet a reader from MoBD again! may you enjoy this one! | Zack001: why the pessimism? ;) | Oblique Moon: they are bound to be good friends yes? It's fun to write them so it's great to hear that their scenes are enjoyable._


	7. Chapter 7

"_Do you ever get tired of reading, Rob?"_

_Robin lifted his gaze from the yellowing pages of a book he had been immersed in the last two hours to meet a pair of hazel orbs tinted with gold looking at him from across the table. For a brief moment as he watched the Exalt seating herself on a chair, he forgot that he had been asked a question. "Your Grace," he quickly greeted her. "I—well, I never really got tired from doing what I like."_

"_I understand. Chrom and Lissa are the ones who are baffled by your obsession towards books. I merely relayed their question."_

"_Then they simply have not tasted the sweet taste of acquiring new knowledge." He paused, then added, "Though in their case, I believe they value practice over theory."_

"_That, they do," Emmeryn softly laughed. "I have a question of my own, though, if you don't mind."_

"_Ask away."_

"_What is it that you seek, if I may inquire?"_

_Robin blinked. First at Emmeryn, then at the open book on the table. "Oh… I'm still furthering my studies in the old language, Your Grace."_

_A subtle smile touched her lips. "No, not the book you have been reading," she said with a chuckle. "Watching you has made me curious... What is it that you're seeking by gathering knowledge from ancient tomes and scrolls?"_

"_Precisely what you stated, Your Grace: gathering knowledge. That simple."_

"_Oh? I don't believe it is as simple as you say."_

_Words of incoherent order came to his thoughts and he scrambled for an answer that would fit. Reading books was simply a means of filling himself with knowledge; it was a habit that he had simply picked up and had never pondered its significance any further—something that he liked because it gave him something he didn't have, a beneficial hobby to put it mildly. "I...never really thought of reading as an activity that would inquire in-depth questions, especially from you," he said, careful not to let his bafflement show in his voice. "Do everyone's likes and dislikes normally make you curious?"_

"_Why, yes. Why wouldn't they be? Everyone has special reasons behind their actions."_

"_Special reasons, Your Grace?" A mirthless smile was lifting one corner of his mouth up, much to the irony of the thought of who he was and where he came from. "I am without my memories. What any special reasons I could possibly have, much so regarding this hobby of mine?"_

_Emmeryn slowly tilted her head to one side. "Do you mind if I voice my opinion aloud?"_

_He stared at her for a moment, trapped between a blooming hesitation to delve further into subjects he was reluctant to touch, and a sparked interest at a portion of truth about himself that he somehow knew this woman held. His fingers curled instinctively. "Please do, Your Grace."_

"_You're seeking for a sense of fulfillment, Rob. You're seeking to fill your cup, so that you might have a purpose, for you fear the emptiness within you. At least it is what it appears to me."_

_He could feel his heart clench and his being going still. The meaning of her words flowed into him like a crashing wave. Emmeryn seemed to notice his lack of expression and was quick to say, "Please do not take it the wrong way. I did not mean it as an insult."_

"_Fulfillment," he said, slowly as if testing a foreign word on his tongue._

"_You are without your memories, yes." Her voice had gone quieter, softening into a whisper in which he could detect both empathy and sadness. Both were things he would refuse should they come from anyone else. "But it doesn't mean you are less of a person than anyone is. You feel that you are. And so, you seek to compensate for it."_

_By reading, by diving deep into the unknown and swallowing the tiniest bit of knowledge he could find. That…made sense, he supposed. It was such a strange revelation, but strange as it was, he knew that deep down, he had already understood it. It just never came to the surface of his mind. _

"_Perhaps…" he began, unsure with his feelings and words more than the meaning of her words, "Perhaps you're right. Reading... Or rather, learning, is something I picked up because it gave me a sense of purpose."_

_Everything was new; everything was a wonder. There were so many questions that rose at one simple occurrence in everyday life. 'Had I experienced this before? Had I seen this before?' There were so many things that fascinated him. Common sense and logic were his only tools in deciphering how things worked and how should he act, and thank Naga they worked well. _

_Emmeryn listened intently as he talked, occasional murmurs of assessment and smiles accompanied his tale in fitting moments. Her eyes were empathetic and curious, her soft gaze was what made him breach into subjects that he had never thought of discussing with others. Talking, he realized, made him think differently about matters he had thought over a hundred times in his head. It was…refreshing. Oddly so. Having an attentive listener to thoughts and wonders he usually kept to himself made him revise the way he looked at things, made him second-guess his earlier judgments and assumptions. _

_He had never been sure of how he felt about himself. Or about everything. _

_People regarded his amnesia in different ways: Chrom by trusting solely in the present and in the future, Lissa by optimism that never questioned shades of his past, and Frederick with careful steps and watchful eyes. But no one had ever questioned him out straight about _how _he _felt_ about things. Questions had always been centered on his notes of keen observation, his thoughts regarding matters in the present and his predictions of what the future may bring. And so he had labelled his own feelings and emotions as things of little significance._

_Until she came. _

* * *

**Chapter 07**

**Clearance**

* * *

The first letter that came to him was from Miriel. In her own cryptic language that few would understand, the woman informed him of the completion of her preparations in carrying out the first phase of his plan. In it was an address and a notification that the Valmese had received the forged letter that Robin had instructed Miriel to submit.

The second letter was from Gaius. It detailed Princess Lissa and Maribelle's condition, and an ounce of his fear was lifted upon knowing that both were fine and had yet to become subjects of torture or the likes. No, of course the Valmese wouldn't dare to lay a finger on them, he tried to reason—to reassure himself, perhaps. They wouldn't risk it. So long that they knew that he was on his way on bringing what they had required of Ylisse to their hands, they wouldn't harm the two ladies. Robin had been careful to let his shadow's movements be known to the Valmese. The purpose was to let them know that he was willing to stick to their idea of bargain. The good news from Gaius meant that Ricken was doing a good job in using his array of illusion spells to impersonate Robin while boarding a different ship.

Still, the bitter feeling on his tongue did not go away. The two may be fine, but not yet safe. One wrong move or miscalculation could lead to the death of those two, and could potentially entice Valm into taking the offensive to a whole new level.

Robin got up and opened the only small window of his quarter, held out Gaius' letter out, and let a small surge of magic flow through his arm to burn the paper. White flames licked them out until nothing remained, the magic producing a silent hiss that prompted him to check upon his sleeping companion who shared the room. He was a skinny middle-aged man with balding hair. Must be a simple merchant, judging from his apparels and belongings. The man was deep asleep still, his steady snores an assurance that he knew nothing of his roommate's activities. Robin smiled to himself. He must be, by now, a decent enough spell caster to make Tharja proud.

Prior to leaving the inn, Tharja had taught him the basics to casting a sleep spell. It was a conjuration he had been trying to master along the way on their journey to Port Ferox afterward. The spell had proven itself to be quite useful in more ways than one, most especially whenever he had to share rooms with another soul.

Robin shoved Miriel's letter to a small bag attached to his belt and squinted at the sunlight that burst through the window. If the weather was good then they would arrive at Valm Harbor in a day or two. The three days he'd been aboard the ship he had spent entirely locked in his quarters, only taking an occasional trip to the galley for meals or to the bathroom. How he wished there were some enchantment to quell his nausea. An aerial dance on a Pegasus' back he could handle, but this...

The ship mounted a wave and he felt his insides rise and drop along with it. Quickly he reached for his tankard and filled it with mead. The sweet beverage helped. A bit. And yes, it had been three days, meaning that he was starting to get the hang of it, for the worst moments had passed.

Carefully he made his way out of the quarters, lifting the spell on his poor companion as he shut the door behind him. He had mused about staying out of the sun throughout the travel, had doubted his ability to keep himself from throwing up each time the floor beneath him lurched and dipped. He would have gladly stuck to the initial plan were it not for the last piece on the board that he should move before the ship arrived at Valm Harbor.

The sun was hanging high in the sky, its radiant light threatening to blind him the moment he came above deck. There were shouts and laughter, barks and excited yells all around. The Shepherds had been a loud band, yes, and he had been in company of an army far louder than them. But this crew of sailors were entirely a different bunch. Robin certainly had never met men whose vocabulary of curse words surpassed that of Sully's.

He searched the deck for a lone figure whom he found was leaning against the railing. Cordelia who was not clad in armor of steel was still a foreign sight to him, more so when her figure lacked the fiery color of her hair and the touch of easy confidence in her posture. Still, though, wraps of plain leather did not diminish what gossiping knights would call effortless beauty. He had agreed with them. He'd made his own observation, more than once, and did not feel guilty for rehearsing what he had learned. Soft facial features that boasted high cheekbones, full, dainty lips, and thick lashes… Well. He would be a Risen not to notice what hundreds of men with healthy appetite did upon meeting her.

Cordelia was looking downwards, that he could see the dark fan of her lashes and the shadows they threw across her face. Her attention was fixed towards the lower waist of the ship. He followed the line of her gaze, and found two sailors, each armed with a curved blade and a combat knife, circling each other.

The first sailor lunged at his sparring partner, swung his curved blade with lethal speed as he dashed forward. The attack was parried. But it did not end there. Combat knife came thrusting in, slithering under the second sailor's sword arm and would have gotten to his neck were it not for a last-second reflex that dictated the second sailor to dart away from its reach. Some spectators who were gathering around the combatants whistled and cheered, a wolfish grin spreading on the first sailor's scarred face. He was clearly the senior, Robin decided. And he was good.

But someone was thinking otherwise, Robin noted upon returning his attention to Cordelia. She had her eyebrows knitted together, along with this expression of distaste that curled her mouth slightly.

The junior sailor had righted his form, and did not wait for the scarred sailor to attack first this time. He got into his defenses with a series of swings and thrusts, his movements a dangerous and wild dance Robin had not seen before. But all were evaded or parried with ease. An attempted blow to the scarred sailor's left side, a quick flick of curved blade, and the junior sailor's knife was knocked out of his hand.

As Robin had expected, the frown between Cordelia's brows deepened. She was correcting the junior's movements in her head, he knew. And it was so apparent, so easy to see, no matter how much she wished and willed for her emotions and thoughts to be masked sometimes.

He remembered how her eyes had looked in the morning the moment Chrom had left Ylisstol, and how something had moved in their depths, just for a small fraction of moment, when the young Exalt had turned his back to leave.

The spar continued and Cordelia huffed a sigh.

He approached her then.

"Busy thinking of a hundred alternate scenarios, I see," he said.

Her surprise was well hidden. But he saw her shoulders tense up all the same. "The one with face full of scars is flashy with his movements," she stated. "He could have simply lunged in and got into his adversary's defenses with a series of quick thrusts."

"And where would the fun of it be, then?"

Scarlet eyes widened. "Fun?"

"Let's say the scarred sailor did as you suggested… He landed his finishing blow; his sparring partner ended up defeated. Then, what?"

"Then the session is over."

"Then it would be called a duel, not a sparring session."

Thoughts seemed to form and clash in Cordelia's mind. It was all apparent on the conflicting look in her eyes. She chose silence, ultimately, and threw her gaze at the sea. Robin settled beside her and leaned back on his elbows atop the ship rail. "I've heard of stories from knights who have sparred with you in the past. Sessions tend to end relatively fast, they say, and with too many bruises. I could understand why you were made commander in such a young age."

"And you kindly came out from your room just to confirm it. I could understand why you rose in rank so swiftly."

"You have to forgive me: my curiosity knows no bounds." Robin noticed the absence of anxious energy that usually wrapped about her. "I must say, I envy your ability to adapt."

She dismissed it with a faint shrug. "You're less green than I thought you would be."

"Oh, I've had my share of being green, thank you. The first day had been nightmarish enough." Tormenting, even. He had not even been able to manage a short walk without his stomach doing a flip that caused regular bathroom visits all the more horrifying.

A flash of hollow smile met him. "I suppose suffering for three days has renewed your vigor, then?"

'_To play more games,' _he could hear the words she did not say aloud. _'More trickery.'_

_No. _"Yes." He reached for Miriel's letter on his belt and deliberately held it aloft in front of her. "A letter from a friend arrived just before we departed. It will be more useful in your possession than mine."

* * *

\- A -

* * *

Hesitation that bloomed from suspicion prevented Cordelia from immediately taking the letter from Robin's hand. He seemed not to be bothered by her open distrust, and it made her more wary all the same. "There's no trick on this one," he said when she still had not made a move. "When did I ever trick you anyway?"

No, not tricked. What he did was worse than pulling tricks over her, and she had a list of accusations she would very much like to throw back at him. What measure of pride and sanity that were left kept her from doing as she wished. She took the letter and unfolded it.

Neat handwriting in black ink delivered words and phrases that most folks would not bother to decipher, let alone read thoroughly. Cordelia did not need Robin to tell her who the sender was. The content of the letter itself was curt, only consisting of two key points that caught Cordelia's attention: an address, and the mention of 'forged letter' that had been submitted to the court of Valm.

"I trust that you will explain now that you've given me the first piece of the puzzle?" she asked.

"The letter has been submitted under your name."

Cordelia's mind stuttered, refusing to make sense of his words. Then their meaning unscrambled, hitting like the thrust of a javelin. When she found her voice again, a raspy "what" was all that came out of her mouth.

Robin turned to face her, leaning sideways on the rail. "What 'what'? You have been frustrated with the lack of details of the plan. And now that I've given you a big chunk, you're acting incredulous?"

Anger seeped into her system again, and it was good, she decided. Anger always managed to sharpen her thoughts and tongue, able to clear her mind from fog of confusion. Once again she reminded herself who she was dealing with, and how important it was to have that one emotion within arm's reach whenever she was engaged in a conversation with him. "Miriel submitted a forged letter under my name. To the court of Valm." Thoughts and speculations came together with the words that she breathed. "You said that I could do something to help-and you only came to sign me up _after _my demotion. This is…your way of using me." Her status. Her tarnished pride.

"This is my way of ensuring the Princess and the Lady are to be returned in one piece," he corrected. "And it also serves as your passport to enter the court to make that happen."

He had not participated in the vote that had led to her demotion. He had merely watched from behind the curtain. Watched, and probably, steered the situation into his favor. All done in less than one day. Cordelia was having a hard time deciding if she should credit his quick-thinking with appreciation or disgust. "You want me to infiltrate the court and make sure that the negotiation proceeds smoothly."

"Good guess. But that is merely the first phase of your work." Robin snapped his fingers to get an attention from a tanned man who was sitting atop a wooden box. Sacks of fruits were pooling at his feet. A travelling merchant. Robin tossed a gold coin at the merchant, and two apples were tossed back in return. He bit into one and casually offered the other to Cordelia.

She did not make any move to take the refreshment. "I wager that meeting Miriel will be our next move once we've arrived."

"_Your _next move," he said between mouthfuls. "We will separate ways the moment we land."

Cordelia waited for him to explain further but Robin carried on only with his apple. With some difficulties she quelled the need to grab him by the collar to shake some sense into him.

She should have known, shouldn't she? How foolish of her even to hope that the Grand Master would reveal more than the tiniest bit of his plans, and how foolish it was to let even the slightest bit of hope enter her heart in the first place.

In a distant, roars of laughter erupted. Cordelia saw that the sparring session had come to an end with the junior sailor as the winner. The scarred one had purposively let himself be baited into attacking brashly and had let himself be disarmed both of his weapons. From the grin that was spreading wide on the scarred sailor's face, it was clear that it had been his intention all along to let his junior win the spar. And people were accepting it with much humour; his junior with appreciation.

"Have you ever lost a spar on purpose like the scar-face just did?" Robin asked.

"No." Because it had never crossed her mind. And if it ever did, she wouldn't. She was still unable to comprehend the rationale behind the act. "Kellam," she finally sighed.

"Kellam?"

"If not for Kellam's trust in you, do know that I would have deserted the inn, even if I should have ridden in the middle of the storm."

He drew himself into a more comfortable position and brought the second apple to his chin, eyes on her. "Oh? The quiet fellow talked about me?"

A better man would have hidden his interest at what others say about him-would have dismissed any form of praise. And a better man wouldn't have toyed with a woman's mind to the point of near-insanity. Cordelia snuck Miriel's letter to her pouch and folded her arms over her chest. "He seemed to trust you." She stressed the word 'seemed,' not wanting to feed this man's ego further to the brim.

A ghost of a smile formed. It was a true smile, one that softened his sharp features and brought a new dimension to his eyes. It caught Cordelia off guard, because it was not a smirk, and she'd thought him incapable of smiling without making her wanting to connect a steel-gloved fist to his nose.

"The big fella simply doesn't get just how capable of a man he is," Robin said. "A rare person to meet, Kellam is."

"How did you two…"

"Meet? Or more like come to be able to see and talk with each other?" The smile escalated into a grin.

And then he told her. He told her, easily, how he had discovered the 'Ghost' in an empty equipment tent two years ago, and how he had learned the tricks to detect the invisible Kellam.

Cordelia listened to Robin with a mind that was only half attuned to the content of the story. Half of it, she found, was muddled with lingering questions that had now multiplied. They were not meant to be answered, the questions, for they were of things very contradictory in nature. The Robin who stood in the present beside her was nowhere like the Robin who had been travelling with her thus far. The image of him now brought her back to the moment, one she had forgotten due to the pressure of everything that had been raging around her since Princess Lissa had been kidnapped, when she had met him in the garden back before things had gone awry. He resembled that same man who had fallen asleep on a bench and asked her to wake him up.

She had not known him well at that time. Then before she had the chance, he had become the unpredictable, sarcastic travelling companion whose words and actions were seemingly designed to only remind her of her grand failures and status.

He baffled her.

And it scared her, this lack of clarity of where she was going.

A part of her wanted to learn more of him, wanted to understand more. Another part, though, despised the notion. Not just because of how he had treated her-but because of a new wound that her confusion inflicted to her heart. Later at night, when she was alone with her thoughts in her quarters, she would find that it was jealously. Because Kellam trusted him.

As Chrom did. And Sumia.

When applied to them, and a good deal of many others, perhaps, she realized that 'trust' was an understatement. They did not only trust him. They were fond of him.

She recalled how Chrom spoke to Robin as if to a family member. Sumia talked to him easily about matters that were normally private for Cordelia's ears to listen. And there was also Kellam's look of contentment and gratitude when he had spoken of Robin.

What Cordelia had with her former knight-sisters was respect. Respect, and perhaps, despite being trimmed with envy, a grain of trust that had been the result of Phila's great leadership and tutelage. What Robin shared with the Shepherds was something she could not understand, for it went far beyond her knowledge and experience.

* * *

\- x x x -

* * *

**_A/N: _**_Hello again! After almost 8 months of no-writing, I'm back! I apologize that I've been missing for quite some time, and would like to apologize still for not being able to update properly. Thesis...has cause my Muse to turn into a mush. Won't be able to babble for long, I'm afraid... (As I have another date with Thesis...) But words can't express how grateful I am to see that there are still people who read my works. Thank you from the bottom of my Muse!_

_And yes, your Reviews are manna from heaven._


	8. Chapter 8

_Kellam's letter arrived the day we set foot on the land of Valm. Written in it was something I had already predicted the moment I'd received the news of Lissa and Maribelle's kidnapping. _

_Now that his conquest of ruling the west continent has been completed, Walhart turns his eyes towards the east. Whispers and tales of his deeds depict him as a man of dangerous ambitions, someone whose thirst for power and domination exceeds even that of tyrants of the olden days. Some deem his ambitions to be just, claiming that he was merely seeking order which could only be achieved should the lands were ruled under one banner._

_But no matter. Who he is and what purpose he has in mind are of no concern of mine._

_If I can anticipate his moves right, the peace will last. I will risk everything I have in this game to protect what you cherish the most. _

_No more losing._

* * *

**Chapter 08**

**Seacomers**

* * *

Chrom woke feeling sicker than he had been before he'd surrendered to his fatigue and collapsed in a chair. His body was heavy, his muscles were sore, and he knew that no matter how many hours of rest he got, all these ailments wouldn't heal. He was bilious with worry, and despite knowing how useless it was to fret over things in the past, he couldn't stop himself from regretting his decision to leave the capital and to leave Lissa behind. But most of all, his mind kept on mulling over the fact that Valmese assassins, and spies, possibly, had been roaming free in the land he ruled.

He'd thought he had brought law and order when he had put the Mad King's reign to an end. He'd thought he had succeeded his late sister by ushering Ylisse into a new age of rebuilding and calm. His marriage to Sumia and Lucina's birth had instilled in him a profound sense of tranquility and completion he had never felt. And, yes, he had thought, and vowed, that he would do anything in his power to protect what little that Ylisse had.

He simply had not thought that he would be pushed to take up arms this soon. Lissa's kidnapping was like kick to the gut-a wake-up call that no peace was going to last forever. Not as long as men like Walhart lived, at least.

Getting up from the chair he had occupied for Naga knew how long, he stretched his arms to get his blood flowing and walked to the big square table at the center of the War Room. The maps of two continents were spread on the surface, both of which had been dotted with markers. Port Ferox was the area that drew his attention, and remembered what Jay, the servant-boy Robin had elected to act as a proxy before he'd left for Valm, had relayed to him the night before. _"The Grand Master deduced that they would come within the week, the Valmese_._ And they will bring more warships than a single nation in the east could ever have."_

"_Which is why we are entitled to inform Basilio before they could arrive and have him prepare for a joint fight," _Frederick had said, his apprehension showing.

"_It has been done," _Jay had said, _"but the Grand Master fears that won't be enough. Sooner or later, we will need to ally ourselves with Plegia."_

"_And what madness is that?!" _Frederick had shot back, almost shouting at the boy who was only half his size._ "You might have forgotten what measures had Ylisse taken to unbind herself free from Plegia's shackles and schemes, but I have not!"_

"_The Grand Master's orders are to be carried thoroughly if Ylisse wants to stand a chance against the Seacomers from the West."_

"_And we'd sooner be left to ruin at the trickery of the Plegians!"_

Chrom, who had been a silent witness to the debate between the boy and the knight, finally spoke_. "Enough. Let's hear it first. Robin's plan. Let's hear it first."_

Jay had recited the content of the letters of instruction Robin had left the boy; Frederick had gotten angrier; Chrom had been compelled to dismiss everyone from the War Room to think matters for himself. That, and also to ease the tension between the boy and Frederick before it could escalate into a bloody scene. He knew just how suspecting Frederick was towards Robin in the first place.

_Plegia, huh_… His fingers were tracing the lands belonging to the nation, memories flickering in his mind: of the battles he'd fought against the Mad King, of his late sister, and of everything that had happened after Ylisse's victory in the turbulent time. His pride and heart hurt at the mere thought of joining forces with those who had spilled the blood of his sister's. But he could also see the rationale behind Robin's suggestion. Ylisse was not in a condition anywhere near capable of standing against waves of Walhart's massive army.

The doors to the room swung open and Chrom said, without turning away from the table and maps, "Didn't I order everyone to steer clear from this room before dawn?"

"And look at what staying up late did to you," the person spoke softly, and Chrom was surprised to see that it was Sumia who had come in. She neared him and placed a hand on his cheek. Those huge chocolate eyes were full of worry. "You're exhausting yourself."

"You'll have to forgive me." He placed his own hand above hers, closing his eyes, absorbing the warmth and scent of her. "There are matters more pressing than the need to lay my head on a pillow. How is Lucina?"

"Asleep. Might I know if you've come to a decision?"

Chrom leaned back against the table and drew Sumia close with him. "Robin's plan is...sound, to say the least. It's only logical to ask for the help of the Plegians in such dire circumstances. Fighting together, Basilio and our forces might stand a chance if it only comes to defending one single port. But…" He let his words trail off.

"It is unfortunate," she said, "but I think that would be wise."

"It assures me to hear you say so. Frederick and some others do not share your thought."

"They're only being cautious. They love Ylisse as much as you and I do. It's only right for them to be distrustful against those who had caused the halidom much suffering in the past."

He knew. He was simply not sure whether he should trust their distrust or not. Chrom gathered himself and looked at Sumia in the eye. "Tell me if I make a mistake, will you? Tell me if I'm about to do something that will not benefit the people."

"That I will." She smiled a wistful smile. "But I do believe that it is Rob's one and foremost job to do so."

"And Rob is not here." He threw his gaze to the window, where the streaks of red were beginning to graze the dark blue horizon. Words could not express how sorely missed his friend's presence was. "Him standing beside me… I'm afraid I have so grown used to it I might have taken it for granted."

"You are a loyal friend," Sumia said. "You care about those around you, and it does not go unnoticed by them, or anyone." When Chrom was still silent, she added, "Lissa will be safe. Maribelle too."

"I sure hope so…"

"I...do worry for them too. For Cordelia also. But Rob always has a plan, doesn't he? I trust that he knows what he is doing."

"And I wish I had a fragment of his tactical mind to know what he's planning." Chrom had to admit that there had been times when he too questioned his friend's way of brewing the most bizarre plans. "But you're right. I trust that he has some designs in mind to counter Valm."

"Then that is enough."

Sumia's tender gaze quietened the storm inside of him, and he leaned in to find comfort in her lips. They kissed long and quietly, drinking in one another's presence and affection, drawing strength from each other. Chrom broke contact and straightened himself when he heard heavy footsteps approaching. Frederick and Stahl came into the room. They gave a bow before addressing the news they bore.

"Enemy's fleet has been sighted by the Feroxi, My Lord," said Stahl. "They're four days away from Port Ferox. Around three hundred warships in total. There's a good chance more are coming as we speak."

"Has Basilio mobilized?"

"Yes, he has. The port has been heavily fortified, Sir. They're ready to battle, and are waiting for you to lead the reinforcements."

"Then it's best not to make them wait for too long," Chrom said. "See to it that preparations are to be completed before midday, Stahl. We march today to defend the port alongside the Feroxi."

"Yes, Sir."

Stahl left the room, but Frederick remained. Chrom knew what the knight was waiting for. "I have made my decision, Frederick. We will request the Plegians' aid," said Chrom. He was injecting strength and will to his words to let him know that his decision was final. "They will have to see that if Walhart crosses the sea, then his army should also be a concern for them too."

Frederick's face was stone-hard, but he did not try to rebut. "Do forgive my impudence, but I just wanted to make sure if you have thought things over before making a move."

"I have. And you know that we don't have the numbers nor the coin to stand on our own against the Valmese."

"I do know. And I also happen to know that the Plegians have declared war against us once."

"I'll hear no more of this," dismissed Chrom. "Your counsel is much appreciated, truly. But the people and the lands should be our priority. An impending calamity is upon us. How can I let history and pride crush Ylisse?"

For a moment, Frederick seemed to want to say more, but Sumia interjected before he could speak again. "Have faith in your commander, Frederick. You have served him for years. Have those years betrayed you?"

He gave a deep bow and let his face cool into the mask of calm he so often wore into battle. "No. No, Your Majesty."

Came into the room half-running was Jay, whose hair thick brown was as disheveled as ever, with books and papers in arms. He looked as if he had just survived a bandit attack. Still panting, the boy gave a hasty bow to the occupants of the room-with the exception of Frederick whom he only tossed a testy look, then said, "I've found them, Your Grace."

"You've found what?"

"The Grand Master's books." He walked to the table and carefully dropped them. To Chrom, he gave an embossed book that looked almost too worn to have been in a possession of a man who had only used it for two years. "In his last letter, The Grand Master instructed me to give you this book. It shall guide you in battles to come, he said."

He accepted the book with delicate touch, afraid that the bind would come loose the moment it transferred hands. The pages were full of Rob's hand-writing, some scrawny as if written in great haste, some neatly. "And this is…?"

"A book containing the Grand Master's plans."

"Plans for what exactly?" asked Sumia who was peering closer to look at the writing.

"For things that might happen in the future."

"_Might_?" Frederick repeated.

Chrom opened a random page and skimmed the content. Understanding, horror, and disbelief were mingling together and rising within him. "By the Gods…"

Sumia, who had also come into agreement with the words which had not come out from Chrom's mouth, drew in a breath and shook her head. "Don't tell me… this book is full of these?"

"Yes," Jay replied. The boy was standing a little taller as pride trickled into his voice and bearing. "Lord Robin has poured all of his knowledge and wits into the pages of the book."

Frederick was creasing his eyebrows in confusion. "Full of what, if I may know, M'lord?"

Sumia was the one who found her voice first. "Plans. Strategies. War tactics…" She exhaled in a huff and looked at Chrom, then at Frederick. Her eyes were wide, perplexed. "What-if scenarios. The book is filled with plausible scenarios which might happen in battle and the multiple selections of plans to deal with them."

Frederick's jaw dropped an inch.

Chrom gingerly closed the book and looked out at the brightening sky. A mirthless grin was spreading across his face despite the words of curse that escaped him. "That damn paranoid insomniac… And he _dared_ call _me_ names."

* * *

\- A -

* * *

What first startled Cordelia upon the ship's arrival was the solidity of the ground beneath her feet-five days spent in a ship had programmed both of her subconscious and unconscious to expect the world to shake and sway every now and then-and the second was Robin's hard sneeze behind her.

She gave the silver-haired man a despondent look. "You board a ship and you suffer from nausea. You disembark and you're now allergic to land."

Robin rubbed his nose and cringed. Cordelia saw that the dark circles around his eyes had become more visible. "That oaf had better not misinterpret anything," he muttered under his breath.

"Pardon?"

"Never mind. Anyway-" Robin yawned- "it's good to see the harbor's as lively as ever."

If by 'lively' Robin meant bustling with not only merchants but soldiers in armor, then yes, the Valm Harbor was certainly a lively place. Cordelia could see hundreds of warships docked in, sailors and soldiers bantering and moving about carrying sacks of supplies, captains of guards barking orders. The scene made her conscious at just how real and threatening Walhart's intention was. The knight in her burned in retaliation, and her hand itched to find reassurance in the grip of her lance.

"Think of something else," said Robin in a low murmur when they were approaching a checkpoint. "The guards may be checking only for passports, but it's never wise to arouse their suspicion by looking as if you want to start bashing their heads."

"Thank you for the picture," she said, calmness taking over. "It certainly is soothing to think that you think me capable of doing such a deed."

"I'll do all the talking."

As usual then. Upon their turn, Robin gave two sets of passports and letters of identification, different ones from he had used in the east. The guards nodded their heads and let them pass.

"What say you of your success in infiltrating enemy territory?" Robin asked lightly as they walked down the road lined with street vendors and shops. Business here seemed to have not dimmed, even under the pressure of war.

"Their number is almost ridiculous, if that's one thing," she said. "A good portion of their troops must have departed for Port Ferox. From the bags under your eyes, I take it that you have thought over the strategies to repel them?"

"That I have, though only for a moment, I fear." Robin squeezed his eyes, and for a second, his steps faltered. Before Cordelia could react, however, he had rolled his shoulders to mask it and clenched his jaw hard, biting back either a cringe or yet another yawn.

She felt pierced by guilt. _For I am the cause of this ill omen_…

"Don't give it another thought; combined with the might of Basilio and Flavia's troops, we will not face total annihilation. Yet," he added as an afterthought. "They will do their part. We should focus on things we have to do here."

The heavy burden of the guilt increased at his consolation, and she averted her eyes to one side, fighting back the bitter taste that had settled in her stomach. "You needn't push me so. I shall do everything I can." To atone. To fight for a miniscule chance of having her dignity restored.

A demoted knight's only hope to redeem his or herself is to win back the trust of the throne he or she served, and Cordelia had steeled her resolve to do it or die trying.

"I believe you shall," was Robin's reply. She looked sharply at him, and the Grand Master's mouth twitched with humour. "Perhaps it will do your mind well to stop thinking so doubtfully of my every word and action."

"Apologies. I am not used to your wayward ways as of yet."

He feigned a wounded look. "Wayward... Only Lady Maribelle and Flavia have ever used the word to define a trait of mine."

She figured that it meant either only those two were capable to grasp the tail of his slippery mind and had the wits to tell him so, or that everyone beside the two ladies had simply given up in trying to fit his way of thinking into a category that could be stamped with a term of human tongue.

A blaring sound of several horns blown together startled her. Everyone in the streets turned heads to look at incoming armed soldiers who filled the main road. They made two lines on each side of the road after clearing it free of citizens, spears at the ready. From a distance, another party of soldiers came, and she saw that it was led by a grim looking man, heavily built and grandly armored, who might be in his forties. He must be one of Walhart's generals.

As common folks paused in their activities to enjoy the mighty parade, Robin made a turn while dragging Cordelia by the arm to a small alleyway between two buildings that were a shop and a dine. Suddenly cramped in such a tight space with him alarmed Cordelia, and she looked up to question his sudden move, but only found that words had died in her throat at the proximity and intensity of those dark blue eyes that were narrowing down upon her. "We don't have much time," he told her, voice only a slight louder than a hiss of breath. "Details of what you have to do will be delivered to you by those who have come earlier than us. Follow them to the letter."

That was not an instruction. The way he had said the words sounded more like a plea to Cordelia, with just enough sum of desperation she could trace in the strain of his voice. She managed a small nod. Robin opened his mouth to say more but promptly closed it. She could see the veins on his neck, blue slithering lines against pale skin, which told just how little the Grand Master had properly rested during their travel despite his apparent laid-back attitude—an attitude she now suspected had been a display all along.

"I give you my word, Grand Master," she whispered. "I will carry out whatever task you have waiting for me." The constricted feeling in her chest tightened, and she inhaled to lessen it. To no avail. "If this is the only path of redemption for me to walk, then so be it."

"They are dear to you."

Her pride. The Ylissean royals.

Cordelia tore her gaze away from his. Her heart was beating loudly, and she knew there was no point of hiding anything from the man who had managed to overthrow Gangrel's forces with tact alone.

"Then that is good," he said. "I can trust you to put much effort in this mission."

"Probability of death shall not hinder me. I am a knight and a loyal subject of Ylisse before anything else."

"You've said everything I needed to hear from you," he said. "We shall part ways now. Farewell, then, M'Lady. Best of luck to you."

With that, the Grand Master left her.

* * *

\- A -

* * *

It was almost unnecessary, him pining her for her word. But he simply had to—had to listen from her own mouth that she _would_ be a willing pawn in this game. The risk of any missteps was great, and greater still the calamity that would befall Ylisse should the game take a turn for the worse. Valmese invasion he had foreseen, yes, but the kidnapping and the letter that came before it he had not. Robin mentally cursed at the ill positioning of his own pieces. It was not as if he had a choice in the first place…

But at the very least, he knew what he had seen was real. The bitterness that dimmed her scarlet eyes was equaled by determination, her poise telling him that she would cling to her oath till her death.

A spark of envy lit in his heart, partly because the woman had a cause to fight for, and partly because she still had it in her to stay true to herself, even after knowing that her efforts and loyalty wouldn't be able to grant her one true happiness she truly yearned for.

Sauntering through the streets alone gave him time to focus his attention not on things playing in his mind. Carefully he noted the area, marking where the exits and entries were in an imaginary map, calculating the number of warships and troops the Valmese had accumulated; he was absorbing as many details of his surroundings as he could, thinking of future plans he could construct based on the information he had at hand.

So focused he was in his observation that a pat on his shoulder shocked him greatly to the point that he literally jumped and almost—_almost_—activated his magic in self-defense. "Whoa, whoa—Bubbles! Hold it!" said the man who had sneaked behind Robin, holding up his hands.

Robin drew in some air to cool his nerves. "Does it ever occur to you to approach a man normally, Gaius?"

"This is how I approach people normally," he retorted, eyebrows raising in good humour.

"A good reasoning, considering that 'most people' are targets of your nimble fingers."

"It's not my fault that most people are easy prey."

Gaius was draped in his usual cloak and worn leather armor, looking at all like some poor mercenary for hire, a perfect façade that wouldn't raise an eyebrow wherever he chose to travel. "You have to teach me that," Robin said, resuming his walk.

"The art of stealth?"

"No; the ease in which you move."

"Planning to be a trickster, are ya?" he snickered. "I suggest you forget it, Bubbles. No offense, but you're as stiff as a walking trunk."

Robin half-bowed. "Then do you have any feedbacks for my stiff self, Your Stealthiness?"

"It's a not a skill one can master. It's your state of mind that reflects in your movements." The shrug was nonchalant, but the words Gaius said felt as though they had punched Robin in the gut. The Trickster was oblivious to the damage done, and proceeded to produce a candy bar from a secret pouch under his cloak and shoved it to his mouth. "So, how was the trip?"

"Horrible." That one word was adequate to illustrate the pain he'd been through. "And our ladies…?"

"Are unharmed. Physically. As much as I can tell."

Cold anger rose within him again. "Valmese tactician… Excellus, is it? Have you seen him?"

"The chubby guy with uncanny look to his eyes? He's running around a lot these days, trying to rouse as many warriors of the realm as possible to fight under Walhart's command. Has been moderately successful, judging from the increasing number of troops he sends each day to cross the sea and man the forts."

"So I have read in your report. Does it mean he has succeeded in getting the west to bend their knees?"

"The current ruling clan head of the west is an adept man with a cool head, or so many people say. He has not shown any signs of submission yet, mind, but from the passive way he resists, it might be safe to think that Chubby has pulled some strings—"

"And only needs to give a finishing touch," Robin finished. He didn't like the sound of it. "Tricky guy."

"Says the man who's outmaneuvered the Mad King."

"I take it that a general or two have been dispatched to conquer the nation?" Robin asked.

"No. It is rumored that Walhart himself will be leading the siege. The man has fire in his belly, and tales of the heir of Chon'shin being a highly skilled swordsman seems to ignite his lust for battles."

Robin thought whether or not Walhart's true intention lie only in the prospect of encountering a mighty foe. He decided for the latter. The stories and rumors he had heard of the emperor painted him as a fearsome warrior with unrivaled strength. But he was suspecting that he had more brains than brawls than many had expected. Him leading his army personally to force the west into submission would be a show of prowess, a display for all nations to see just what kind of fate awaits them if they so choose to oppose him.

A sudden headache seized Robin. He paused in his steps, overcome by its severity, and as quickly as it had come, it went away. Gaius reached for his arm to steady him. "Hey, are you all right?"

"I'm sorry. Yes, I'm all right." He tried to sound reassuring, but even to his ears his voice was not convincing. He meant to free himself from Gaius' support but found his feet too weak to fully hold his own weight. It had become more frequent, the migraine…

"You look as pale as a Risen, in case nobody has told you. How many hours of sleep do you get a day, anyway?"

"Two. Three at most."

Gaius winced. "That isn't the healthiest way to live."

"I'll shoot it back at you and your sweet tooth."

"Hey, don't start sounding like that brute," Gaius said, implying Lon'qu, who was a renowned health-obsessed fellow within the army. "This is my way of enjoying life, okay. At least it gets me motivated to get my job done."

"Whatever you say."

They came upon the gates leading to the outskirts, and Gaius pulled his hood low. "You're sure you're up to this?" he asked as they walked to a stables.

"As far as Ylisse is concerned, yes. You have your own debt to pay to a certain lady, right?"

Gaius' expression turned serious, and an uncharacteristic frown settled between his brows. "Yeah."

Back in the Shepherds' travelling days, Gaius had spilled his share of tale about his debt to Maribelle. Robin had never known the specific details, he'd simply listened to what the half-drunk Gaius mumbled in his stupor after he stumbled into his tent with a bottle of mead, salvaging parts left unexplained later after the red hair had recovered the next day.

Robin gave a purse of coins to a stables keeper, who in turn gave him two horses and bags of ransom that would be sufficient for two days' ride. Gaius mounted his steed and was already stuffing his mouth with yet another sweet treat that seemed to have never run out. "The negotiation will take place at a small fortress up north," Gaius said, fastening the buckle of his belt, "and you already know that there will likely be an ambush team waiting to catch our tails the moment we get Princess and Twinkles back, don't you?"

Robin mounted his horse, and for a moment, expected the ground beneath him and the mount to sway like a ship did. He cleared his head from the remnants of his headache and seasickness by drinking from a canteen of water. "That is exactly why I had Libra coming after us to take them to safety while you and the others stand by in the shadows. He will be the ambassador."

"Still… Crossing the sea back to home is no easy task when hordes of enemies are pursuing us. In addition to us not being experienced naval fighters, we'll be greatly outnumbered."

He raised his eyebrows at Gaius. "Whoever said that you will have to sail?"

"Wha—? We're not taking them back to Port Ferox…?"

"You'll only need to make it safety to the harbor. And, no, you won't be _greatly _outnumbered, as you put it. Outnumbered by a small bit, yes, but not without a chance to keep your head above your shoulders."

"But then with no ship to board, we'll be caught!"

"You'll see when the time comes. For now, let's just ride north. We have a deal to strike."

* * *

\- x x x -

* * *

**_A/N: _**_A fast update to compensate for my abrupt hiatus._

**_[Special Note: _**_I made a mistake in the last chapter by writing down the name Henry when I had meant to write Ricken.]_

_ I have time to answer to reviews now that my thesis is in the process of being reviewed! Err... Did I just say 'review' twice...? Oh well..._

GoingGone: I've missed writing it and you guys too :") | AStampedeOfChickens: Oh, wow! Thank you for your kind words. I'm truly happy to hear you say so! | Narzz: Thank you for taking your time to RnR too. I will read them later when I have the time :) | RustyBladeR: I've been...uhh, lurking in some dark corner with only my laptop and thesis...? | Ichijoji Takeru: I'm glad to hear that you enjoyed the op. scene. It took hours to write... :') | kizuna11: Thank you! Please anticipate the next update too! :D | Emiya Shihou: Thank you for your review! I'm glad to see that there are still RxC shippers out there. | SharaOh: I totally feel you, friend... | Squaco: It was the hardest part to write so it gladdens me to see that you are happy with it. And yes... I will survive this trial. On my honour as a student and writer, I promise thee. | LiamReyas: Thank you for your review, and I'm sticking to the main storyline with Grima and all that. About the rest of the characters... well, they will make their entry in time, and I hope you'll enjoy the story from here onward. | SRomanoff: A tricky guy is a tricky guy, they say. | jullie ford: A fan of Leona?! Woohoooo, I just found a soulmate! Yes, come to think of it, the song does illustrate their story quite a bit. | twntyninth: Thank you again! Please notify me when I'm beginning to stray to the field of OOCness. | shirogami naoh: I'm wondering that myself :D My Muse already has the answer, but she wouldn't tell me until the moment I start typing on my keyboard... :/ | WhyFly53: My Muse humbly and eagerly answers to your words with a loud shout of joy, kind sir. | chikazuku ou: That, I did. | N3 n Y0: Ahahaha, then please eagerly wait for the next update. And the next. And the next. | B L A ZED Vladimore: Thank you for liking her and the scene! They're my favorites too. | carl ra3 BB: I won't. I promise. I try to, anyway. Ahem. | Kitsuko114: Thank you! Yes, I'll bee needing luck on that :') | RandomReviewer: Thank you for reading and reviewing too :D I'll try to write more whenever i have the time. | Gobbuster: Someone picked that up, thank heavens! Yes, there will definitely more romance in the next chapters. | ryo kazam4: Thank you for RnRing too! | Xian 146: Robin possesses a sly mind, so... well, just wait and see, I guess? | 9th Heav3n: I will. | Rex: Manipulative!Robin? Ahahaha, I had to read it twice to understand the pun. Thank you again for reviewing! :D | drunkdragon: Thank you again for reviewing, even after so many months of absence... I hope that you're also doing great! :D | INISU: That is also a question I've been trying to answer but can't... | Iki Na Ri: You're voicing my thoughts aloud, friend. | Simba Sum: Big, big, crushing hug to you too for reading and reviewing this story! | Quistiss de Tepr: Thank you! I'll try to do better still in the chapters to come. | 909th Shinigami: I am. Though I have not read them all... :") | 21 Deers: And for your honesty, I thank thee, since I'm also a big shipper of RobxEmm myself. | Logan McAlfred: Happy to hear you're enjoying it. | Ifran D: It will be difficult perhaps... Let's just see what my Muse will dictate me to write, eh? I'm a captive of hers myself... :'( | Kirihito Mai: A friggin review! | Write faster, faresjojor: I am and I will try to do so in the future. | Gladios Ville: And to you, thank you for the review! | Amanda Brynes: It doesn't deserve it... yes. I agree. Totally. | Razorral: I'll try to do so again. | Lucretiamars: More characters are to appear, so don't worry, they too shall appear on stage in time :D


	9. Chapter 9

_His dreams usually consisted of images he didn't know whether or not they stemmed from lost memories or interpretations of pictures and stories he read in manuscripts, of voices—incoherent beyond deciphering—and of faceless figures. Sometimes they were in colors, though most often they were not. Sometimes he could remember them after waking up, even if only in bits and pieces, but most of the time he could not._

_When he did wake with some sense of remembrance, he did not think of their meanings, presuming them too wild and unpredictable. He had been curious, had consulted an old book—a rare find amidst the many scripts sharing its theme in the royal library—of what could dreams of an amnesiac person meant. It had told him nothing, since the book simply gave a few of logical speculations he had made himself. Plus, his dreams often lacked clarity, making the deciphering and interpreting much harder a task, if not altogether impossible. So he had tossed the book aside, coming to a conclusion that whatever lies in the realm of dreams should stay in that realm. _

_But that changed the moment he found his consciousness adrift between the two realms._

_The room he was in was vividly clear; the pillars, the smooth stone floor, the alcoves, the altar… Everything was painted in detail, and as he took in his surroundings, he was made aware of the notion that somehow, in a way he could not truly explain or understand, he knew that this was not a mere memory. There were carvings on the walls, sculpted wonders which he traced with his fingers. Was this place…a hall of worship or some sort? Probably. But worship of what? The stories on the walls were written in a language he didn't understand, and the pictures drawn on them depicted no Naga or higher deities known to Ylissean culture. _

_Slowly, he ascended the stairs that led to the altar. The architect of the place had designed it specifically so that an abundant ray of celestial light was streaming down the altar. There was an array of stone tablets on the surface. On them was carved a picture of a flying dragon._

_There was something…something other than curiosity that drew him towards the tablets. He extended a hand to stroke the rough surface of the tablets. He had expected it to be rough. He was wrong. Whoever had sculpted the dragon on these tablets must have possessed the skill of a master in his profession, for the lines were so smooth, each curve elegantly shaped, its scales detailed, and it gleamed under the touch of moonlight. The wings were especially captivating. Under the play of light, they seemed to be moving, adding to the dragon's majestic beauty an eternal flight._

_The massive doors behind him creaked open, and he broke free from his trance. "Who's there?" he asked, turning around._

_A lone figure, draped in a black, hooded cloak, was standing at the doorway. Robin could not see his face, since it was covered by the low hood. _

_The figure stepped forward, and suddenly, the temperature in the room dropped. "Who are you?" Robin asked again. _

_No answer came. Instead, the figure simply walked closer until he was standing at the foot of the stairs. He was standing so still, and the temperature kept dropping lower and lower until Robin could see his own breath coming out in puffs of air. _

_At the muteness of the figure, Robin dared a descending step towards him. He could feel his heart beating louder with each step he took, ramming against his ribcage, feeding on his apprehension. Up close, he saw that the figure was a man, a young one. Before he could think or speak, his hand move on its own. _

_He drew back the hood._

_A pair of dark blue eyes met his. Familiar. Similar. _

"_You asked a question I needn't answer," he, the bearer of the face that he had seen multiple times in the reflection of mirrors and still water, said. "You know who I am."_

* * *

**Chapter 09**

**Premonition**

* * *

Cordelia had gone to the address that was in Miriel's letter and found her in a small house the scholar had rented and turned into a small workshop of her own. In the abode she spent what little time she was granted by Miriel to wash the dye off her hair and readying herself for yet another journey, though this one would be on horseback, but westward still, to a fortress called Steiger.

It was clear that Miriel would spare her no rest. Before afternoon, they had already saddled their horses and off to their destination. The speed in which they went did not allow many words to be traded, aside from one-way instructions and curt explanations that Cordelia heeded to. The forged letter that Miriel had sent under Cordelia's name indicated pretty much everything that had happened after her failure in protecting the Princess and Lady Maribelle: her demotion, her banishment. Miriel told her that a gathering of information she and the others had made during the short period of time in the foreign land had been fruitful; Valmese tactician, Excellus, was renowned to welcome all who sought to serve under his lord, unruly rogues and defectors alike. Benevolent, some folks called him. Deceitful was the term Miriel had concluded out of the rumours of this Excellus person. But for one fortunate thing, it meant that her case would be heard, if not welcomed with open arms.

Miriel had told her to reveal any necessary information of Ylisse that Excellus might try to dig out from her. Cordelia had been aghast at the prospect, but Miriel had brushed off her concern, saying, "The Grand Master will see to it that whatever information you disclose to the enemy will not add to their advantage in any way." But that, of course, didn't soothe Cordelia's mind. She still had her doubts, but she kept them to herself.

Their journey stretched for two days, and at night, when they made a small camp in a small forest clearing, Cordelia was left alone to her thoughts. Miriel was never one to initially strike a conversation—at least not when the other party had nothing that baited her interest. Watching the other woman scribbling down on a note and reading at the same time under the minimum lighting of a small camp fire puzzled Cordelia as to how the ever studious Miriel could be engaged to someone who was her total opposite.

"You bring books along with you all the time, Miriel?" Cordelia asked after she was done unsaddling the horses. "Don't you worry they may be damaged?"

"I monitor the sky closely all the time, especially at times when I am about to go on a lengthy travel. From my earlier observation, rain shall not pour down for the night and we will possibly enjoy a pleasant weather until late in the morrow. If the wind changes, however, a light drizzle is all we could expect early in the morn. But that is highly unlikely, judging from the temperature and humidity of the air. The bags I carry with me had also been coated, so in case that my hypotheses fail, they will still be safe." She looked up from her devices then. "Shall I explain to you the conjecture behind my reasoning?"

"No, you don't need to," Cordelia said, a little bit too hastily. She sat down beside Miriel and leaned back to a fallen tree trunk. "I trust in your abilities."

Miriel seemed to accept this. She didn't, however, return her attention to her book. Looking straight at Cordelia, she asked, "You have some other questions, perhaps?"

Cordelia blinked, not really knowing what to say. Miriel took this as a sign of confusion, and she smoothly proceeded to explain. "Do not take my words with bafflement. I saw your eyebrows creasing and your eyes going to a place not tied to the present whereupon you look unto me or my belongings, and so I simply deduced that you have something akin to a question in your mind concerning my being. I apologize in advance if it is not so."

"Actually, I do have one." She paused, but Miriel's stare silently urged her to go on. "Forgive me if I may sound rude or insulting. I'm just…confused...as to how someone like you would…"

"Ah. It is about Vaike, I presume?"

"I'm sorry—it's just I know you as someone who is deep in your studies, so I thought that marriage—"

"Has never crossed my mind?" Miriel cut in, softly. "It certainly never had before he presented me with a ring. And do not worry, I don't take your question as insulting. It is a simple curiosity. It does not do one harm to voice it aloud at times you want answers."

Yes, but if only she knew how harmful it was to do so in the presence of a certain Grand Master, Cordelia thought.

The scholar put down the book and closed it, eyes closing. "You are not the first person to ask me such a question, and so, I will give the same answer I did to all those who had asked before you." When she opened her eyes again, they glowed softly by the firelight, and a ghost of a smile danced over her lips. "I want to learn."

"You want to…learn?"

Miriel nodded. "It is precisely because we do not share any similar traits that I found him intriguing. I find him so, still. I advance my studies by broadening my knowledge to fields I have yet submerged myself into, and by being with him, I am continuously discovering something new each day."

The explanation Miriel gave suited her way of thinking and life. And behind her logical words, Cordelia could unearth another meaning: "He inspires you," she said, sharing Miriel's smile but not the happiness it reflected.

"In one way or another, yes. He is a subject of observation worthy of close inspection for a long duration of time."

Affection was strange like that. Between two of most different people it could bloom and flourish, even if the seed had been a tiny little thing such as intrigue or inspiration. Her own seed had been of the same kind to Miriel's. Except that it did not come budding the way hers did.

Jealously, unbidden and unwanted, seeped into her heart. "You are lucky."

"You have a person who sparks a similar curiosity within you?"

Cordelia drew her knees close to her chest and hugged them. Lying wouldn't do anything much at this point. Lying would only scar her more. "Yes," she whispered.

"And does he not share the same fascination?"

"No. He never did notice, and so he never will." Thinking of it now was like opening an old wound and smearing salt upon it. She had tried hard not to imagine what it would be like to meet Chrom again after all this was over. In more than one occasion Robin had implied that if the plan succeeded, then there would be a huge chance that she could cleanse her name and restore her honor. But the prospect seemed dull. She had failed the royal family, after all. Even if she did have a chance of winning back her post and knighthood, she was doubtful that she would ever have the courage and heart to see _him_—and Sumia—again.

"You never have the intention of ever telling him?"

"It will simply never happen, Miriel. Some things are just…not meant to be."

"That is one most dubious statement. Nevertheless, one is free to draw one's conclusions to one's own wants and quests."

The silence that fell was not unwelcome. The campfire crackled and accompanying it were distant hoots of owls. Eventually, Cordelia stirred. "Look at what I've done. I have sunken your mood. I'm very sorry."

Miriel put her book, quill, and papers into her bag. "A needless apology. I did not intend to further my reading for the night, if that is your concern. I learned valuable things from our talk as well."

"Oh?"

"I may be prompted to pursue a better understanding in human emotions and differing concepts of bond. It is clear to me now that what I currently know is but a fragment of the whole truth. And… Why is it that you are stifling a laughter?"

"I'm sorry—" Cordelia tried to straighten her tone but failed. "It's just… How to put it… I envy you, Miriel. I truly do."

The other woman's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Envy is what you say, but I suspect 'amused' is more like it."

"That, too."

"Well, I deem a thorough elaboration."

Cordelia breathed deeply. "The way you see the world… The way you percept things, the way you enjoy your pursuits. They are all admirable qualities to me. Vaike must have seen them endearing as well."

"Endearing is a term I do not comprehend, but I am simply being myself when I theorize and apply all that I know into my words and actions. What is so 'admirable' about it?"

"And that is what I meant." She looked into Miriel's hazel eyes and smiled. "You being yourself." She managed a shrug. "It's very brave."

Miriel tilted her head to one side. "I find your words…puzzling."

"Perhaps you will understand in time. When you do further your research into human emotions, that is."

"Hmm. Acceptable."

Miriel produced from her bag small candle sticks and handed them to Cordelia.

"What are these?"

"Explosives. Light them and toss them to the air before three seconds elapse."

Cordelia almost dropped the candles to the ground. "They what?!"

"They explode, as the name suggests. I have thought of a better name, but I think being practical is the best. Descriptive and simple. I have made them look like normal candles so their nature might not be revealed. You need only to light the wick—please be careful not to let fire ignite the bodies instead, or they will blow in your face—and toss them. They shall prove to be useful as signaling devices to let people know of your position should you aim to fool enemies or drawing allies to you. Throw them to hostile forces, and one stick should provide to be a tool of enough destructive force to stun—and burn—a man."

As carefully as she could, Cordelia put them in a leather pouch and double knotted the mouth. "Your inventions are always so surprising."

"Not as surprising as the Grand Master's in this field of pyromancy."

Surprised that she would hear a reference to Robin in the dead of the night—and by Miriel, no less—she asked, "What exactly did he do?"

Miriel untied her sleep roll and lay it on the ground, smoothing the surface methodically, then removing her glasses before snugging inside. "He's made a daring, unprecedented move with his research of fire magic that I have never even thought of possible. Revolutionary. A bit too risky. But he thrived."

By now Cordelia was beyond baffled. "Wait. What is this about?"

"Pyromancy… Fire magic without tomes," Miriel answered with a weakening voice.

"What? How is that even possible?!"

Miriel was no longer listening. Her eyes were closing, and her last words before lulling fast to the realm of dreams were: "Precipitous… He would be planning a suicide with his next research…"

Her companion now sound asleep, Cordelia was left with the thoughts of just how many things about the Grand Master that she didn't know.

_You are a fool for assuming to know what you see. _

She didn't retaliate to her own voice of reason. It had been her own poor judgement that led her here. It had been her inexperience, and a grain of stubbornness, that plunged the whole Ylisse into a state of unrest.

It was worse. _You only see what you want to see._

Memories of Phila, of her time spent with fellow Pegasus Knights, of her long forgotten childhood, resurfaced. Tears of bitterness sprang. She made no motion to wipe them off. She hated them, those memories. Whereas once they had given her hope and strength to face a new day, now they only reminded her of what a legacy she had become—of what _a disappointment_ she was to her dead sisters.

She should have stayed with her knight-sisters on the border. She would have welcome death as it embraced. She would have died an honorable death. She would have been in a world free of pain and shame.

_Yet you abandoned them; you flew away to cheat death_.

Redemption was Robin's offer. Little did he know that it was something she didn't need. A part of her had died along with her sisters that day, and what remained was crushed under the burden of guilt the moment the steel armor she had clung to for years fell to the floor.

The fire licked the branches until what remained was a pile of black soot. Darkness enveloped the camp, and Cordelia drifted to a troubled sleep.

* * *

\- A -

* * *

Chrom had a list of many questions and curses he would like to spit out at the same time. Since it was impossible to do so in the heat of a battle, he channeled his frustration into strength, then bashed his sword onto the nearest Risen's skull. The foul creature fell, but its brothers and sisters were ready to take its post. Chrom slashed at an attacking Risen, parried the next one's attack. "Frederick!"

The knight charged in from the side and thrust his sword into the Risen's midriff before dragging it down. "You all right, M'lord?"

"Unharmed, yes." _But vexed as hell_. "Is everyone already evacuating?"

"Yes. The rear is battling through, M'lord."

Chrom and Frederic impended yet another assaulters. "Can we trust that boy, milord?" asked Frederick as he fought.

"The Plegian mage says he wants to fight for our cause, and in this kind of situation"—Chrom stepped clear from a Risen's reach, and before it could right its footing, he dashed forward to hack it in two—"I don't see the hell why we should refuse him!"

In a distance, he could see purple and green lights dancing in the darkness, followed by ripples of lightning strikes and high-pitched laughter that was nearly maniacal. Magic reverberated in the air, the scent of burnt dead flesh hung in the air like a cheap perfume.

Henry could fight, that much was clear from the bodies of slain enemies that were pooling around where he stood. _He might even be tied with Robin in magic._

Chrom cursed then.

The thought of Robin brought him back to the hall of Plegia's castle. The hierophant who was serving under Validar had an uncanny physical resemblance to Robin. The new King, as well, posed yet another mystery. Chrom was sure that he was the same person, the same assassin who had been sent to kill Emmeryn. The King and Aversa had avoided any questions. Before anything made any sense, the Risen had banded up and attacked his camp. Everything had since then turned into chaos.

"Damn it!" Chrom drove Falchion to a Risen's chest. "Plegian mage!"

Henry looked at Chrom and paused in mid-casting.

"There's no end to them! Can you not do something?!"

A smile, too wide for Chrom's liking, spread on the boy's face. Side-stepping a Risen's attack, Henry waved a hand. A magic circle formed, producing a surge of strong gust that blew a group of Risen back, scattering them. Frederick and Chrom jumped in to gain the momentum.

The last of the Risen was a prey of both of Chrom and Frederick's swords. It fell to the ground with a dull thud.

"That was the last of them, right…?" Chrom cracked his neck and lowered his sword arm. "Are the others safe?"

"Yes, it seems. The sounds of fighting have ended—M'lord, watch out!"

Too late. A blade was dancing close to his neck, and he was in no form to defend himself.

But the blade never met his flesh.

A sound of steel meeting steel rang instead, along with a cry of a familiar voice.


	10. Chapter 10

_They did not choose to nestle in their usual corner in the royal library today. Emmeryn had suggested that they enjoyed the beautiful early autumn weather in open air, and so, they had gone to the royal gardens behind the castle. _

_The day was coming to an end, and from their spot under a large maple tree, they were presented with a clear view of the sun dipping low in the west, its glow painting the sky in the most breathtaking. It was the magic of nature that no artists could ever capture perfectly. A warm feeling entered his heart. How many sunsets, he wondered, had he enjoyed in the past? How many summers?_

"_You have improved quite significantly," Emmeryn said as she scanned the last paper of his translation work. She returned it to him, eyes wide. "Another month or two, and I fear you will be the one who is going to grade my paper."_

_A child's glee swelled within him, and to hide it, he laughed a nervous laugh. "You need not fear so—a novice like me will never be able to outdo someone who's been learning for years."_

"_No, I'm being serious, Rob. You're learning so fast it seems as if you've used a spell." Those honey-colored eyes crinkled with humor, and he couldn't help but to share her smile. "Or perhaps, did you?"_

"_It would be great indeed if there was such a spell. Should I take it upon myself to invent it?"_

_Her smile turned conspiratory. "I shall look forward to your success in reshaping the way education works." _

_They laughed. But Emmeryn shook her head. "It would truly be great if there was such a shortcut, don't you think? Imagine what would happen then. More people would be able to read, more children would be able to benefit from the wisdom of the old days. It would bring about a total transformation to the world; a revolution greatest, perhaps, in history."_

"_I…did not think of that."_

"_I am not speaking sense either," she said. Dainty fingers moved to skim at a patch of grass. "It was a mere thought of what-ifs, Rob. A fantasy. But even thinking of the bountiful promise it yields often thrills me. There are days when I lost myself to a dream where such spells exist. I close my eyes and I see smiles and laughter among the people." _

_This silenced him. He listened, shamed, as the Exalt closed her eyes, and shared her dream with him._

* * *

Chapter 10

Escape

* * *

The path they traversed to reach Fort Steiger began to widen at the second day. Dawn was coming up in streaks and slashes over the foggy moor. They switched to the main road then, passing along common folks and soldiers on their way, just as Miriel had previously insisted since Cordelia needed to be seen as herself. When the fort came into view—a gigantic multitude of buildings shielded by high walls outlined in the grey light—Miriel reined her steed to a stop.

"You will have to navigate on your own from here on," Miriel said. "Remember only two things: you are only to observe when the negotiation takes place, and afterward, wait for a signal."

The sentence was curt, but the burden of the meaning fell upon Cordelia's shoulders like a massive boulder. "It basically translates that I should simply do nothing until one of you tells me to, correct?"

"Correct. Any other questions that I might answer should be voiced now before I take my leave."

"There is this one thing…" It had been bugging her since yesterday, and she frankly didn't trust herself to judge matters on her own. "If I am to be still upon the moment of the negotiation, then…" She trailed off, not knowing how to express her doubts and frustration at Robin's plan that seemed to have been voluntary kept away only from her.

Thankfully, Miriel s was an astute observer. She saw through the words which couldn't come. "Believe in us if not the Grand Master," the woman said with a deliberate adjusting of her spectacles. "We have prepared everything that is necessary to ensure that the negotiation proceeds as it should. If you must know, we have other Shepherds already in station, waiting under the shadows to combat the Valmese dirty and rusty tactic. Traps have been laid as well to augment our chance of success."

Ambush. Cordelia had feared this. Robin had seen it through. "Thank you, Miriel."

"Unnecessary. Now please be on your way."

Miriel steered her steed back to the way they had come, and at her absence, Cordelia felt dread, once again, enveloping her. In front of them was one of the main vital strongholds of the enemy. One wrong move and it would result in her downfall, and possibly Ylisse's as well. Images of the few she held dear sprang to her mind. _I can do this_, she steeled herself. She had survived the border and the war against the Mad King. She would make it out this time too, even if it meant throwing her own survival out of the window for the sake of those her heart served.

Urging her own steed to trot forward, she neared the massive gate of Steiger.

A couple of guards on duty saw her coming. Cordelia raised one arm to show that she meant no harm. When she was closer, they approached her with hands on the hilts of their swords. "Stop," one of them said. She swung down from the saddle.

"The Fort is no destination for civilians," the guard said.

She was aware of archers peeking up from behind the parapet and windows on the front wall. As calmly as she could, she said, "I am no regular civilian, sir. And I believe the master tactician is expecting me."

The guard who had spoken scoffed, eyeing her hair, in particular, with wariness he didn't bother to hide. "And who might you be, lady?"

"Cordelia of Ylisse."

At the utterance of her name, the guards traded looks of alarm. The second guard, the older looking one, recovered first. He released his sword's hilt and stepped hastily aside, and gave a slight bow. "Forgive our manners, Lady Cordelia. Please, Lady, if you would follow me…"

The other guard took her steed's reins from her, and Cordelia was beckoned into the inner yard of the castle. She hadn't expected an allowance of entry this fast, and figured that it Miriel must have written a letter so convincing that the master of the castle and the Valmese tactician had given the order to let her in should she made an appearance at the gates.

Once inside the castle walls, she immediately became a subject of crude observation throughout the long walk into the main building's interior. Flirtatious glances and hateful sneers she was used to. Mute, piercing stares laden with suspicion and animosity she was not. Minus the cold assurance of her steel armor, she felt doubly naked.

They arrived at the hall of the castle, a large, sumptuous square room carpeted with a thick rug that muffled footsteps. Banners and tartans hung on the walls between the high windows, plaids splotching the gray stones with red and black. The guard who had led her there excused himself and disappeared behind double doors, only to swiftly return with the company of a plump man dressed in fine red robe trimmed with gold. Striding behind them was a woman clothed in a similar manner to that of a royal priest. The gold ornament on her head told Cordelia that she could very well be the lady of the castle.

"Ah, Lady Cordelia!" the man beamed. He briskly walked towards her, and before she had a moment to collect herself, the man had gathered her hands in his and shook them. "I am truly glad to finally meet you in person."

Cordelia gingerly returned the vigorous handshake she was not accustomed to. "And you are…"

"Oh, where are my manners! My name is Excellus, fair lady, the master tactician of our lord."

At the words of 'our lord' the insides of Cordelia's stomach did a violent flip, but she forced herself stand steady on her feet. She tried to focus to the man before him instead.

Cordelia had only known one tactician in her life, and so, seeing the short, plump man, she could not help but to draw comparisons between them. Excellus seemed like a friendly character, if a bit too spirited and buoyant. Unlike Robin who never seemed to show any interest in anything relating to art or fashion and preferring to clothe himself in the simplest way possible, Excellus' grand gestures and immaculate robe he wore told her that the Valmese was someone who had a flair for the dramatics.

"We welcome you to Valm from the bottom of our hearts!" Excellus finally let go of her hands, and he turned to the woman in red behind him. "And this is Lady Pheros, the one in command of this fort."

If Excellus looked nothing like the image of how a master tactician should be, the woman looked every inch a commanding officer that she was. Those pale green eyes were appraising Cordelia from head to toe. Sharp and cold, they were; eyes that befitted someone who was of her station. She was someone who was used to instant obedience, Cordelia thought, and the firm line of her mouth told Cordelia that this Pheros lady didn't share an ounce of Excellus' interest and glee in meeting her. Cordelia took the initial to give a bow first. "It is an honor to meet you, Lady."

"I would very much like to say the same; your exploits in battle have been a subject to many talks amongst the knights," Pheros said. Her lips were slightly curled and her tone warm, but her eyes reflected a cautious indifference. "Do you mind should I ask you to recite your motivation and story, Lady Cordelia?"

"Not at all, Lady." A test, then. She would have expected that much.

A little mental tug, and memories, bitter and painful, were replayed in her mind. "It is simply as I have written," she began, and already she found herself standing once again in the silent hall of Ylisse, with dozens of eyes upon her—judging, condemning. "I have spent years believing that I have served the right cause, the right halidom. I had pledged my life, my honor, and my future to the Ylissean royals. It is only later I found out that my oath and service meant nothing to them."

They were things of little value in the face of her grand error. Even before that, she had known them to be as such. The moment she'd discovered what she truly yearned in life, she knew then, had known, that she was walking down the lonely path of servitude that would never bring her one true happiness she truly wanted. Her oath had since became the armor she wore to shield her heart from unnecessary heartbreaks that were bound to happen. She had worn it to the royal wedding. She had worn it at the ceremony proceeding her being named first commander of the royal Pegasus Knights.

Excellus was the first to react. "What a foolish mistake! Our lord would never desert a loyal subject!"

Pheros chose to approach her tale with a more tentative step. "You deserted them in return?" she asked. "You would sell them to us just like…that?"

"They had blatantly stated that they were in no need of my strength nor my loyalty," Cordelia replied, letting a shade of her anger slip through her exterior, "which constituted of my banishment from Ylisse." As she spoke, Robin's words and actions danced in her mind. From the way he carried himself, talked, and divulged information… She was copying his way of breaching a subject he was tentative to touch. She let her eyes fall to the floor,. "That was when I saw it: the differing paths which Ylisse and Valm take. I saw honor and virtue in Ylisee and I suffered from shame."

There was a brief moment of silence that befell the hall. A silence in which Cordelia feared was going to end with her death—one certain thing that would definitely occur should Pheros see through her lies.

Except they had not all been lies in entirety.

They were fractions of truth. Distorted. Bent. Laced with possibilities she had not pondered about till they rolled out of her tongue. T'was the trade she had learned from her short time with Robin.

Carefully she lifted her gaze to meet them. "I see power and ambition in Lord Walhart. I could only hope that, this time, my sight does not deceive me."

Something in Pheros' eyes shifted. Though the carefully molded expression of calm did not change, Cordelia noticed the increased intensity in the line of her mouth, and a deepening of the creases that bracketed it. "The truth never changes in shape no matter how we try to interpret it, Lady," she said deliberately. "Our sight only deceives us when our heart sees and clings to something that the truth is not. You will find safety within the walls of Steiger, Lady Knight. May you use your strength and honor in favor of our lord from now on."

"I thank you for your graciousness," she said, managing a low bow.

Relief flooded Cordelia's heart. But appearing more pleased than her was the master tactician, who did not seem the type to be still. "My heart leapt in joy the moment I received your letter, Lady Cordelia! To know that you finally see truth and true potential in our lord's conquest is a proof just how wise you are!"

A soldier came rushing into the hall. "They're here, My Lady, My Lord!"

Pheros looked at Excellus sharply. "You told them to come _here_?"

"Since I believe there is no greater place to boast of our strength, yes. The Fort would be just perfect to show them just how little of a fly they are in terms of everything against our army, yes?"

Pheros didn't look pleased, but she conceded with a soft snort.

Cordelia looked between the newly arrived guard, Pheros, and Excellus. _Could it be that…_

"There is no better moment to celebrate your arrival here, Lady Cordelia," said Excellus. "If our words and hospitality have not yet convinced you of your decision, then what's about to happen will."

She didn't like his change of tone but forced herself not to show her trepidation. "And that is…?"

"A humble show of power, if you must name it. And stupidity, and desperation, perhaps. You will see that you've made the right choice in coming to serve a winning cause."

* * *

\- A -

* * *

The mist that had been looming far in the distance when she had first sighted Fort Steiger was now hanging low like a blanket of silver that was engulfing the area. The dampness sent chill to her spine, but she knew that the reason why it intensified as she walked down to the courtyard was beyond the physical realm. Soldiers had littered the place, lining the curving walls. Cordelia counted that there were at least a hundred that were visible, and knew that there were possibly a few hundreds more in and around the massive fort. At the gates, there stood two figures draped in travelling cloaks, an absurd comparison to the grand number of the Valmese.

Robin. And Libra.

Cordelia felt her feet rooted to the grassy ground, fearing what was going to happen. Excellus had stopped a good distance away from the two Ylisseans, and with a smile in his voice, he greeted them with an exaggerated salute. "Welcome to Valm, gentlemen! It is truly an honor to see you both in good spirits."

"Bring us Princess Lissa and Lady Maribelle, then we'll talk," Robin's voice carried over. Curt and flat, Cordelia had only heard him use such a tone once, back when he had dismissed her from his working chambers hours prior to her demotion.

Excellus was now positively cackling. "I swear the only thing I admire from them Ylisseans is only their bravado." He said to Pheros, "Do you mind, Lady?"

Pheros ordered a soldier nearest to them to the bidding. He reemerged from a tower east to the main building with two girls, both of whom were free of ropes or handcuffs but looked very raw from the constant terror of being kept in an enemy's stronghold. Something inside Cordelia clenched when she saw the pale faces of the two. Both ladies were dressed adequately, but Cordelia was watching for any signs of injury beneath their layer of clothing. None of them seemed to have a limp. But Lissa was walking slower than Maribelle, and the Princess, usually so full of energy she literally walked with a bounce in her steps, was now dragging her feet although someone had put an invisible chain to them. She was clutching Maribelle's arm, who in turn, put on a mask of defiance; the noble born was never one to play the weak damsel in distress character.

"We've been nothing but cordial to the ladies," said Excellus. He waved a hand towards them, as one would to a heap of crates on shipment. "Please, inspect them as you wish."

The ladies were escorted to Robin and Libra, and when they were close enough, Lissa ran to the Grand Master and started shaking in his arms. Robin held the girl, soothing her. He spoke quietly to Maribelle. Cordelia couldn't see her face since her back was against them, but she turned around with widening eyes and spotted Cordelia. Maribelle's face expressed a multitude of things, beginning with shock, and ending with either disgust or contempt.

She swallowed all those in; at her sides, her hands were balling into fists.

Excellus cleared his throat. "I hate to interrupt a drama at its height. But we are all busy here, I believe. Care to give us something in return?"

Robin slowly untangled Lissa from him. The Princess still held her head low, but the shaking of her shoulders had stopped. He spoke to Libra before started walking towards Excellus.

"I expect that you bring what I requested?" asked the Valmese.

"I do."

"I don't take you for a foolish courier, Ylissean! Where is the item that we requested?!"

Robin shrugged off his cloak, letting it fall to the ground, then stretched his arms. "I am no courier." He produced a sheathed dagger, the one he had given to city guards as an item of identification, and tossed it to Excellus. "Confirm for yourself."

Excellus unsheathed the dagger and inspected the sigil. "The Grand Master's…" he murmured. He studied the blade then the silver-haired man before him. Turning to Cordelia, he asked, "Is this true? Is this man truly the Grand Master of Ylisse?"

She did not tear her gaze away from Robin as she nodded in affirmative. "He is."

Excellus and Pheros had very different reactions to the confirmation. Excellus exploded with laughter while Pheros simply stared at Robin as if he'd sprouted wings. "By the gods…" Excellus said, "even in my wildest dream I would have never thought…" He did not continue and instead wiped a tear which had leaked from one corner of his eye. "Goodness. The turn of events… I can't believe you, Ylisseans. Do you not know the line between idiocy and bravery?"

Pheros had also recovered from her shock, and was now looking at Robin with amusement sparkling in her eyes. "Would you have my fort be stained so soon, tactician?"

"No. No, if you don't desire it, My Lady. I must say that I am also beginning to think that there are more pros than cons in keeping the man breathing. For informational purposes, if not entertainment."

"Good. Guards," she called. Two armed soldiers approached them with haste. "Bring this man into the dungeons."

One guard delivered a strong punch to Robin's gut and the Grand Master fell kneeling to the ground. The other one followed suit by securing Robin's hands behind him and forced him to stand up and walk.

It was so fast and so baffling that Cordelia could only stand and take the scene in. She chanced a question. "What is it, if I may know, that you asked for them to bring?"

Excellus met her gaze, a look of innocence on his round face. "Why, the very factor that would threaten our lord's plans, of course. I asked for the Grand Master's head."

* * *

\- A -

* * *

The moment Robin fell limp to the ground, Libra had to do three things at once: yanking Maribelle's arm to prevent her from trying to run over to the Grand Master, half-carrying the weak and almost motionless Lissa, then darting out of the castle yard to where two horses were waiting just outside of the gates. No soldiers made a move to stop them, but he knew that was only until they were out of the fief.

"What was that? Why are we leaving him?" Maribelle shouted as Libra forced her to mount Robin's steed.

Libra hoisted Lissa until she was securely saddled on his horse, then mounted and grasped the reins from behind her. "I'll explain later—we need to go. _Now_." He kicked the horse into a gallop.

Thankfully, Maribelle did as she was told. They rode away from the fort, riding past through an empty road that would lead them into the woods. Libra had never cursed in his life, having sworn an oath to never fall to such obscenity for as long as he lived; but as a mere man, he certainly had felt the urge to, and was feeling it now. The road being empty meant only one thing: Robin was right—there _would _be an ambush party lying in wait. "Lady Maribelle, forgive my rudeness, but at the fork ahead, please take the one to the left."

His order was met by a grim, murderous glare of Maribelle's usual "_no commoner orders me around,"_ but the lady kept her mouth a firm, thin line. Splitting up might seem like a foolish course of action, but they had to prioritize Lissa's safety before anything else.

As the trees around them thickened and the road got narrower, loud rustles and gallops of a dozen or so horses mounted by armed men and women were heard. The first arrow hissed past Libra's head, only missing its target by an inch. The horsemen and bowmen had emerged from the cluster of trees and were closing in on them. The fork was still a hundred feet away, and there, Miriel's traps would spring at any chasers that were tailing them. But until they got there—

The second, third, and fourth arrows flew at them. Three whizzed past him, but one scratched his left arm. Libra tucked Lissa's head to his chest and brought his own low. A stolen glance at Maribelle told him that she was doing the same. "Do something!" shrieked she.

Libra opened his mouth to answer that he was in no condition to do anything offensive. Before he could utter a word, somebody else had.

"Right'o, Twinkles."

A surprised yelp resounded right after.

Libra dared to look over one shoulder. A figure in brown cloak had jumped in on a Valmese horseman and was replacing him on the saddle. As its rightful rider was thrown to the side of the road, the horse neighed at the unexpected. But Gaius was fast to seize control of the panicking beast.

The comrades of the fallen horseman were equally shocked, and in their momentary disorientation Gaius took the chance to throw a knife at a bowman who was at the helm. The blade lodged into the unprotected neck. A split second later, the lifeless body tumbled to the ground and made the two horses that had been galloping behind the dead bowman's jumped in surprise. Another bowman was thrown off his mount.

"Take the left!" Libra yelled to the woman riding beside him.

Maribelle skillfully steered her horse to make a sharp turn. Libra proceeded to steer his own to the right, to a path more dwindling, where the thick leaves and branches of the trees around them made a dense roof, a natural protection against enemies who might try to assault them from above.

There were several bodies of Valmese soldiers already lying dead on the road, and Vaike was a massive figure who was standing with his axe brandished amidst the fallen foes. A lopsided grin of his was on display. "All clear here!" he announced with a booming voice.

"Thank you," Libra said as he sped past the warrior.

In response, an explosion resounded from elsewhere. The priest made a mental note to never get on either Vaike or Miriel's bad side.


	11. Chapter 11

_A forest. Dark._

_Footsteps. Frantic._

_Screams. Echoing in the distance. Closing in. Pursuing._

_His hand, small in someone's grab, almost slipped out when his feet wobbled._

"_Keep running," a woman told him, reaching for his wrist and pulling him up._

_They ran again._

_His lungs were burning, his bare feet hurting. The woman in front of him did not glance back, her tight grip on his wrist was the only thing that was keeping his body moving._

_He heard echoes of orders being barked. 'Catch them!' A man's voice, low and guttural, was hollering in the quietness of the night. 'Don't shoot! The child must be captured alive!'_

_The trees were thinning. The path was widening._

_A cliff._

_Sounds of water from below. A river?_

_The woman stopped at the edge, her breaths heaving. She turned to him and squatted down so they were on an eye-level._

_Her eyes were blue. Marvelous dark blue. Much like his own, many had said._

_Her hands moved to his cheeks. "Promise me you'll stay alive."_

_There were no tears in those eyes. Only quiet determination. And sadness. Deep sadness._

_The footsteps and yells in the distance became clearer. The woman brought his face closer to hers. "Promise me."_

_He managed a small nod._

_She smiled. A smile so gentle; it calmed the storm in him._

"_Don't look back, child. And…" There was a moment of hesitation. The woman's eyes became misted, but before tears could leak out, she closed them and drew his forehead to meet hears. "…know that I loved you."_

_She pushed him to the darkness below._

* * *

**Chapter 11**

**Unrest**

* * *

He abruptly awoke to pain and stinging cold. A bucket of water had been splashed on him, and in the already low temperature the water felt like pickles of a hundred needles to his skin. It took seconds for his brain to process that he was lying on hard, stone floor, and that his hands had been chained behind his back and his legs shackled. The rope and steel ate on him with every little movement he made, and squirming would only double the strain to his muscles and scar his flesh.

As his consciousness grew, he dimly recalled the beating that had taken place after he had been brought underground. There were bruises all over his body, and at the pain that constricted his chest when he breathed too deeply, he bet that he had at least one or two broken ribs.

The place he was in had minimal lighting with only two torches on far opposing sides of the room kept alight. Robin blinked to clear his eyes of water and waited until his vision adjusted to the dimness.

Two Valmese guards, swords on their hips, were standing on both of his sides. Above them, the low roof of a dungeon cell. No. Perhaps not precisely a cell. The room was far too spacious for a simple cell. Racks and tables were lining the walls, each was stacked with a set of steel trinkets—equipments he knew had sharp ends or edges to them.

"I have thought you as a smarter fellow," said a voice.

Excellus walked in with two men in tow, both of whom were wearing standard red cloaks with Valmese emblem emblazoned on them. Excellus stopped a step away from him, his hand on his chin, his eyes swelling with amusement. "And here upon a closer inspection, you're just a foolish, naïve man who is no better than the current head of Ylisse. I wonder if you'd retaliate. Or try to escape." He looked surprised by his own words. "Oh? Oohh? Run away? What am I talking about? You are _bound_!" The man laughed to his own joke, and the guards in the room snickered in a way obedient lapdogs did to please their master.

Excellus shook his head and produced a handkerchief he'd tucked under his robe. "Ah, and this place is as smelly as ever. Do the people who are in charge of cleaning the place do their job properly, I wonder? I'm sure I can still smell the excrement and blood of the previous inhabitant."

Robin felt a new wave of coldness and nausea wash over him. He had known what this place was. It was fear which had prevented his mind to process the facts around him and draw that one inevitable conclusion.

Excellus bent down to have a closer look at him, and Robin put all of his effort to put on a straight face that leaked nothing he was feeling inside. "Hmm, you may be the resilient type. Stubborn eyes, those were. Not the screaming type, for sure." That meaty face broke into a grin. "How long will that facade hold?"

Excellus snapped his fingers and took a step back. In response, the Valmese men who had come with him stepped forward and hauled him up. One of them forcibly raised his arms up and the chain around his wrists was looped over a low hook that dangled from the ceiling. The movement made his muscles protest, and by the excruciating pain he felt soon after, he knew his right shoulder had been dislocated. Robin bit down the walls of his mouth to prevent himself from screaming. He also knew, that if the men so wished, his pain would escalate when they decided to pull the chains until his feet did no longer touch the ground. They were testing him. Or perhaps, they were only toying with him.

"Not so much of a grunt," sighed the Valmese. "And here I was hoping for something more spectacular and entertaining. But nevermind. Oh, and I forgot to tell you one thing. You're here not for any informational purposes, really, so please erase the notion that you're special or important or something from your head. We've got a beautiful lady who is more than willing to share, after all."

So she had made it, then. She had gained their trust. Good.

"I have always been curious of your person, oh exalted Grand Master of Ylisse. Some rumors have it that you are the force behind the halidom's sudden revival after the death of the last Exalt."

He felt his insides do a violent flip at the mention of her. Above him, his fingers dug into his palms.

"The man with no memories of his past with a strange mark on the back of his hand. Ha! What a gossip material!" cackled Excellus. "Alas, your exploits are shadowed by the praises the bards sing in favor of the prince's bravery and strength. It is very unfortunate that this world we live in honors apparent heroism and bravado more than tact and cunning. You, the unsung hero of Ylisse, who are shadowed by the light of the current Exalt, must have known that better than anyone." He stepped closer and leaned forward until he was inches apart from Robin's ear. "We can change things, you know."

Robin felt his body tense.

"We cannot change history, granted. But we can write a better one for the generations to come," Excellus said, voice only above that of a whisper. "We can show them what power truly is." He slowly withdrew to look Robin in the eyes. There was palpable greed in those small, dark orbs. "Come to our side. Serve the Conqueror with me. Together, we could topple mountains—"

Excellus came into an abrupt pause. A splatter of blood mixed with spit had tainted the side of his round face. As those eyes widen in anger, Robin simply smiled.

He had to give the plump man a salute for containing himself and resisting the urge to inflict hurt upon him. "You brainless lunatic…! I don't comprehend your way of thinking… I gave you a one-in-a-lifetime chance and you discarded it like it was nothing! What is it to be gained from staying loyal to those disillusioned dogs?! Can you not see that you are fighting for a lost cause?!"

Robin kept his silence, and Excellus, seemingly to realize that he would not get what he wanted, let alone a word, drew back and wiped the spitted blood with his handkerchief. "Ah… I will never understand the likes of you, it seems. All my efforts, and this idiot is what I get. Hmm? Isn't that a curious tattoo on your arm?" Excellus' eyes flicked to Robin's right arm, and he moved to circle him. "Those are…runes, yes? Symbols. Ah. Magic. I never knew you were one to experiment upon yourself." He poked Robin's arm and traced one finger up the length to his aching shoulder, where he paused and prodded just a little bit harder to instill some pain that Robin fought hard to ignore. "It's a good thing that we have just the thing to prevent you from experimenting upon _us_."

Even without him saying it, Robin knew what he meant.

As he'd expected, one of the men in red produced a vial that contained dark blue liquid. He picked up a sponge from a rack, dirty and smeared with blood, and poured the liquid to it. A guard squeezed Robin's face and the other delivered a strong punch to his side as to render him weak and submissive. The man in red stuffed the sponge into his mouth, and Robin's tongue tasted bitterness.

"Don't even think of doing anything fancy." Excellus was puffing with victory. "You've foolishly thrown away your only ticket to freedom. I'd say live with the consequences of your poor judgement now."

Strong nausea was the first reaction to the poison. It was followed soon by heaviness that clung over his body like a soaked mantle. It fogged his brain, nulled his senses, drained his energy.

"Oh? Nobody told me it would be effecting him this fast." The voice of the Valmese tactician's sounded as if coming from across a huge field. "Shame. We would have to wait for a few hours to…"

He could no longer follow the voice. His mind shut down all sensations, and he welcomed the bleakness that pulled him under.

* * *

\- A -

* * *

The dinner was served in a large hall where long tables had been set up when Cordelia had not been aware. Candles and torches had been lit, while a stream of servants were coming and going with trays and tankards and trenches. There was an air of festivities in the air, and from the way Pheros had her eyes lain on the small band of musicians that were performing, the lady commander had not been the one to orchestrate the event.

Cordelia was seated closest to Pheros—an invitation she had not declined, out of fear of drawing suspicion more than anything—and the stares she received from castle servants and dining knights and officers amounted to her loss of appetite. Sure, the food served was a staple of luxury, for their aroma did indeed make her mouth water. She brought the smallest bits of what was in her plate to her mouth nonetheless. There was a very strong urge to gag, to even throw up, the moment her mind reeled to the events in the foggy morn. And each time she thought of Robin, her anxiety grew.

Where was he held? A dungeon of sorts, perhaps, but where? And Excellus… The swine had not shown his nose throughout the whole day since he had gone along with Robin, and that only made Cordelia's head spun all the more.

Conversation at table was limited to occasional requests for more food or drink. Cordelia sliced the meat before her in tiny pieces, her mind blocking out the murmurs and voices around her as questions she couldn't answer plagued her. She was surprised when Pheros addressed her. "Our food doesn't suit your taste, Lady Cordelia?"

"It's very good, My Lady," she quickly said, fixing her expression. "Everything is so delicious. It may be fatigue that depletes my appetite."

"Ah. Your journey must've been quite tiring." Pheros wiped her mouth with a napkin and reached for her goblet. "I do suggest that you rest after the meal and performance. A chamber has been prepared for you in the east wing."

Cordelia thanked the lady commander for her generosity, but was curious by the word 'performance.' Pheros seemed to notice this, for she went to explain, "It is not every day that the Fort is filled with music and graced with people of artistic souls. Our tactician specifically arranged this—" she made a gesture towards the musicians—"to welcome you and celebrate the victory that is to come. I must admit: the man knows how to entertain and raise morale."

The notion that a banquet had been prepared for her should make her heart flutter, and she _would _have been delighted if such banquet had not been hosted in an enemy's fort. She gave a subtle smile, hoping that it translated her gratitude, then made sure to fill her stomach with more food than she wanted. The soft music that had been accompanying the diners came to an end. She supposed it was time for dinner to end too. But looking about the place, food was still streaming down the hall and everyone still remained seated.

Suddenly, the music started again with an upbeat tone. People on the hall swirled their heads to look at the stage. From the double doors behind the performers, women draped in linen and silk appeared.

Dancers.

Boisterous laughter and applause welcomed them. Cordelia's dinner was forgotten the moment she identified a familiar face. Among the dancers was a figure she had known all too well: soft pink hair in a high pony tail, and through the soft silk that covered her face, she could see the pink dust that was spreading upon the dancer's cheeks.

For a self-proclaimed klutz and a bashful maiden she was known to be, Olivia's performance never failed to captivate. Cordelia had rarely been to a theater, let alone attending a recital, but even mere seconds were enough for her to realize that, at the moment, she was in the presence of one of the most talented performers in the four lands. Olivia was dancing with such grace and ease that the fluidity of her movements outshone the other dancers. Whether it was in a battlefield or a decorated stage, she always managed to transform her surrounding into a beautiful garden, and herself—the butterfly.

The music increased in pace. The dancers were matching their movements with the rhythm smoothly, and the atmosphere turned merry as the audience began to clap along to the music. A hitched note, then a dramatic pause, and the dancers all twirled swiftly on their toes. For a second, Olivia let her gaze linger on Cordelia, and so very daintily, she inclined her head towards an exit.

Cordelia broke free from her momentary trance to glance swiftly at Pheros. The blonde simply sat back in her seat, her goblet close to her lips, and she had an expression that was between mild amusement and curiosity. No sign of her having spotted what had just happened. Cordelia breathed a silent sigh of relief.

The music picked up again, and the audience 'aah'-ed and 'ooh'-ed at the breath-taking interlude. Mindful of Olivia and her dinner, Cordelia continued eating slowly as to not arouse suspicion, and in between bites, she would pay close attention to the performance and the diners. Some of the castle dwellers had already done eating, and were simply enjoying their beverage and the show. A small few had left their seats, going in pairs while chatting amicably. The music slowly came into a stop before it went to carry a different song. The dancers bowed before excusing themselves, a warm surge of applause from the men and women of the castle showering them as they left. The dance performance had absorbed all of the diners' attention and left them with a sense of merriment, so much that nobody paid attention to Cordelia's person anymore. She gingerly withdrew from her seat and thanked Pheros for the feast. Once she was out of the main hall, she quickened her pace until she was at the end of the dark hallway that led to the outdoors.

There she found a slim figure leaning against the wall. "Olivia?"

A muted gasp, and Cordelia soon found herself being hugged by the dancer. "Thank goodness, thank goodness, you're safe!" Olivia whispered against her shoulder.

She was startled by the genuine sympathy and worry in Olivia's voice and gesture more than anything that her mind drew a blank sheet at how to properly response. Olivia broke free and quickly rearranged herself, blushing deeply. "Oh, I-I'm very sorry. It's just when I heard of everything I just couldn't believe it, and when Rob sent me here I constantly feared for you guys' safety. I seriously thought of the worst when I heard where I was going."

Everything…? Oh. Cordelia saw what she meant then. "Ah… I'm… I'm all right." She was not. But she wouldn't let it show. She couldn't. "Did the Grand Master…?"

"Oh. Yes. Rob sent me here. The Princess and Lady Maribelle are safe. I heard some of the soldiers in town saying that they'd gone off south."

Relief flooded Cordelia's heart.

"They've made it to the outskirts and they're with a group of Shepherds. They should be able to make it to the harbor safely."

"Harbor? Will there be a ship to carry them back?" There was a big chance that the fort had been sealed and the officials had all been informed of the two ladies' 'escape.' Should they even show up in one of the big towns, it was likely that they would be captured once again or even killed on spot.

"No. Chrom and the others will have arrived by tomorrow, so—"

"Chrom?" Her heart stopped beating at the mention of the name. "Is he—? Are they all _coming _here?"

It was Olivia's turn to be surprised. "Why, yes. It's part of the plan to have them siege the harbor. Has Rob not told you a thing about it?"

Cordelia fought the strong urge to bite her lower lip. "No. And I don't even know where he is now." Or even if he was still alive and breathing, for that matter. Her anxiety must have shown through, and Olivia caught her shoulders.

"He's alive," she heard her saying softly. Her voice was weak, and it sounded as if the dancer was trying to convince herself rather than Cordelia. "He has to be. Rob's… Rob is not a person who would just go off and die like that…"

The silence that clung between them was heavy with unsettling feeling and burden, and for once, Cordelia was reminded of the stern lecture she had given to Sumia against fortune telling. How she wished she had her friend's unshakable faith in divination. A foolish practice it was, but it would at least give her heart a sense of calm or assurance that her ratio could never bring. Olivia was the first to speak again. "We have you."

Cordelia looked sharply at the dancer.

"We have you," she repeated, and something akin to understanding—no, _hope_—lit in her eyes. "That's why he took you along…! That must be why he picked you! If it's you… If it's _you_, there will surely be a chance…!"

Was that how things had been planned all along—for him to give up his safety to the hands of the Valmese in exchange of the ladies'—and then for her to become his passport back to Ylisse? What kind of a ridiculous bet was that?! The last time someone had gripped her hands and said exactly the same thing to her, massacre had followed.

In the darkness of her mind, familiar faces she knew she would never see again rose to life.

_If only it hadn't been me…_

Would her sisters have survived? Would Phila have?

"I… I don't…"

"It must be it!" Olivia seized her hands and gripped them tight. "Everything makes sense now. I will still have to perform for tomorrow night and the next. Miriel said that she would send a signal—and I should run then. It must mean for you to act too."

…_Wait for a signal_.

…_To do something only a dishonored knight can do…_

Miriel's words, as well as the Grand Master's actions were becoming clear. They were preparing something. Her sneaking into the enemy ranks, as Robin had put it, had merely been an opening arc to all of the Grand Master's schemes. She reeled her mind back to the present and noticed that the echoes of music coming from the dining hall had come to a stop. In a moment or two, all who remained in the hall would dissolve, and she must not be found out lurking in some dark hallway when she was supposed to be asleep in a room prepared for her. "When is the signal going to be fired exactly?" she asked.

"During dinner time the night after tomorrow."

Meant that she would have a little bit less than forty eight hours to prepare and locate the Grand Master. Cordelia nodded. "I understand. I will do whatever I can to be ready when the time comes. Is there anything else Miriel has told you?"

"No. Just that." It was truly the Grand Master's style of planning and conducting action: one step at a time, literally. Cordelia had known his games all too well.

"Where will you be staying for the night?"

"Together with the troupe. They have secured an inn in town, no more than a thirty minutes' ride from here."

"Do you think you can supply me with a few things? We can meet tomorrow evening before dinner."

"S-sure. If I can be of help…even just a little, I will do it. Just tell me what you need."

Cordelia drew a mental list of things that would be essential for a fast and rough travel. It was an easy task—easy, as well as somewhat calming, to fall into a habit, to do something she had done a countless of times before. She couldn't ask for much, but a little bit of food and a blanket should be enough for a day's campout. "Oh," she added after thinking—and dismissing—a gruesome possibility after a memory of today's happening resurfaced, "and I would also require some ointment, if you can find any." Excellus' nonchalance and dark sense of humor which she had seen in the courtyard following Robin's capture were bothering her. She hated to think of things the man could possibly do to entertain himself upon having a high profile prisoner at hand.

"I could do that." Olivia's eyebrows were drawn together, as if she was mentally reciting each item Cordelia had requested. "If I remember it right, there were multiple hallways leading to the kitchens, and one of them connects to an unused storage room. We, guest entertainers, flock there before dinner time to eat and prepare. Come an hour before dinner."

"I will. Thank you."

"Think nothing of it. We're comrades." The shrug and faint smile were but a gesture, but Cordelia felt her heart throb. Strangely enough, the sensation wasn't painful. Or rather, it was a good pain: like someone had pulled a thorn out of her flesh.

"Olivia, I have one more thing to ask, if you don't mind." Olivia had been walking towards the courtyard, but upon hearing Cordelia, she turned back. "Did you pass the fort's stables on your way here?"

The dancer tilted her head to one side. "Umm… I think so. It is on the southeast wall, near the gates."

"Did you see any Pegasii in there?"

After a moment, Olivia nodded. It was more than Cordelia could ask for. She would have to check the place just to be sure and also to pick out for a steed that had outstanding qualities. She felt a twinge of sympathy for the Grand Master who was prone to having motion sickness, but he would have to endure a rough ride. Endure, and live long enough to give her the answers to all the questions she had.

* * *

\- x x x -

* * *

_**A/N: **__Another delayed update, but I made it...! I will be back to answering reviews one by one again after I am done with thesis. Only one month is left... I hope my muse will not have turned to mush after the ordeal. Well, in fact it has suffered quite a bit that I continuously mistyped Olivia's name. Ovelia. I'm glad this story has not been removed from FE section and thrown into FF Tactics._

_Thank you, once again, to all who RnR 'BLAMED.' You guys are the source of my inspiration and motivation! I really enjoy reading your comments and I'm glad that some of you have also taken time to give me a constructive feedback on my writing. Bear hugs and kisses!_

_PS: I made a fanart of Fire Emblem: Awakening. It's posted in my deviousXgirl deviantart and deviousxgirl zerochan page._


	12. Chapter 12

"_What think you of the current head of Ylisse, Master?"_

_He did not glance up from a parchment containing symbols of ancient runes, but he felt the cautious yet curious gaze on him all the same. "You are baiting me."_

_The man beside him scoffed, though the short laughter told him that he was more amused than irked. "'Tis nothing but an old game between you and I. Years of separation… Now that we are finally reunited, you act as if I were the one to blame for your misfortune."_

"_My misfortune…? Or yours?"_

_He had not lifted his head, but he knew well how the man's face would have looked like for one second. Angry; disappointed; bitter. It was his turn to be amused. Years of servitude, and still the man had not gotten over the fact that he had not been the chosen one._

_There was a moment before the man spoke again. His voice was low but dulcet. It didn't fool him nonetheless. "You are teasing me, Master. For someone like me, to have fathered a child worthy to become your vessel is already a great honor no man could ever hope of obtaining. I was humbled beyond words when I discovered the truth."_

_He lifted his eyes then, to meet the dark orbs that were cooling into unreadable hues. That was his defense, his reasoning. But he saw his insecurities through. "Tell me one thing, King of Plegia. Who rules the nation?"_

_The dark skinned man blinked. "You, of course. That is not a question, Master."_

"_And who rules the realms?"_

"_You, Master."_

"_I, huh…" Slowly, he stood up, then let a trickle of magic flow and ignite his fingertips. Black flame shimmered and burned the parchment to nothing. "Now, tell me another thing, mortal… Who am I?"_

_The man took a step back and dropped to his knees, head bowing low till it touched the ground. "You are the one ruler of the skies above and the realms below. Everything belongs to you, Master Grima. Everything."_

"_Ruler of everything…" He walked to the only mirror in the room. He stood before it, and stared at the reflection that seemed to have a life of its own. Dark blue eyes met his. "Everything belongs to me." To you; to us, the echoes of his unspoken words carried through. "What do you think of that, I wonder..." He leaned closer to the surface. "You cannot escape from your destiny. We are made to rule. And rule we shall."_

* * *

**Chapter 12**

**Dreams**

* * *

Excellus showed up at the hall the following morning. Cordelia had been worried herself over the man in captivity, and his captor's sudden appearance alarmed her. But the plump tactician was his usual eccentric self: giddy and exuberant. He asked Cordelia of her night, chatted with Pheros about trivial matters, and when food came, ate a good portion of everythig while generously showering the fort's cooks with praises.

Breakfast passed without anything unusual. Afterwards, Cordelia was invited by Excellus and Pheros to a War Room where a map of the east continent containing Ylisse, Ferox, and Plegia was displayed on a large round table. Questions had been poured over her then. Where the garrisons were, the climate, the exact locations of border passes and routes, the numbers of serving men and women at arms… Cordelia answered each one, giving them everything they wanted to hear, just as Miriel had told her to. Hours passed, and after a break by midday for a quick lunch, she was dragged back into the room to witness a debate between Excellus and Pheros on the best route each thought to reach the heart of Ylisse. Their level of confidence was making Cordelia feel uneasy, and so, when they thanked her willingness to share and dismissed her, she was more than glad to leave the room.

What time she had left before dinner she used to stroll in and around the fort. She was mindful not to ever stray from the main hallways though; she certainly wouldn't want to arouse suspicion by going into narrow passages and poking her head into every room she came across. Two hours of strolling and pretending to be lost, and Cordelia had memorized the layout of the fort.

Gossiping servants and guards informed her of something intriguing. There had been an attempted skirmish in the west. The descriptions of the assailants were close to those of Feroxi soldiers: ferocious and brutal. Basilio and Flavia had moved, then. The skirmish sounded more like a diversion tactic to Cordelia, and soon, she suspected that the Shepherds will act too. Tomorrow night, to be more precise. She was starting to get the general idea of what 'escape' was.

At dusk, Olivia and her troupe's performance accompanied dinner. This time, it was Pheros who was absent. When asked, Excellus brushed the topic off by claiming that the Lady Commander was busy. The dancers danced to a different song tonight, and while all the diners' attention was on them, Cordelia withdrew from her seat and went to the room Olivia had told her about the night before. Everything she had asked for had been stashed away in one of the many old barrels there, ready to be taken when the time to escape came.

She was treading the way back to her chambers when from a window in a hallway she saw a moving shadow on the grassy ground below.

Was it…Pheros? She wouldn't mistake her robe and headdress, even in the darkness… But what was she doing out there? Or more precisely, where was she go—?

She abruptly left the thought unfinished and started to run towards the nearest staircase.

* * *

\- A -

* * *

The headache that seized Robin upon waking up was stronger than any he had experienced in the recent weeks. It was throbbing, and the pain was so intense that he saw nothing but a blur when he opened his teary eyes. The throb was receding to spasms, and they left him breathless and wriggling for air. Damnation…! The tendons of his muscles screamed in protest at the slight movement, a new pain that overcame his senses. He had thoroughly forgotten the fact that the chains above him had been raised, leaving his shoulder sockets to sustain his entire body weight.

The Valmese tactician had left some time before he had blacked out (he did not know exactly when, for time was meaningless in this windowless dungeon cell). There was nobody within the room but a guard who was slumped on the farthest wall, whose eyes were closed and whose head was lolling from side to side, the grip on his spear loose. Tharja's sleep spell must have worked better than he'd thought. He had conserved what little energy he had upon regaining consciousness to pull off the trick: to the guard on duty so that he would not suffer more pain should the man grow bored of standing still, and to himself. Moderate success, the latter. Still, he supposed it was better than being made a subject of Excellus' dark humor.

His ears picked up a muffled conversation. Was he here again? Robin readied himself for the torment to come by clearing his mind of any thoughts.

He was surprised when the doors opened to the entry of a slim figure with pale blonde hair. The guard who had been half-asleep jumped at the sudden noise the steel doors made, and he after regaining his wits about him, he bowed deeply and stammered, "L-Lady Pheros! I-I'm sorry, My Lady, I did not mean to doze off—"

Pheros shushed the guard with a wave of her staff, paying him little mind. Her eyes turned to Robin, and he could see disgust in them. "I should have known what that insufferable worm planned to do when he said he'd keep the Grand Master alive." To the guard standing unsurely beside her, she said, "Lower his chains."

There was a moment of hesitation in which the guard simply stood and stared, dumbfounded. "He may be the tactician's captive, but this is _my _fort," Pheros said. The guard didn't linger long enough to hear Pheros repeating her command and quickly did as was ordered.

Relief burst through Robin as his shoulders were released from the torturous burden. The chains were lowered until he fell crumpled on the floor.

"Are you thirsty?"

His mouth was as dry as a riverbed in summer, but he said nothing. Pheros glanced about the room and found a mug sitting on a table. She grabbed it and placed it near his lips. "Drink." Robin made no move, and Pheros softly snorted. "I ask you not to ever classify me in the same category as that swine. I scarcely ever held prisoners."

Which meant that if the woman saw him of zero worth, he would be dead within a beat. A painless death, though, was a treat far better than what he had experienced in the hands of Excellus.

"Drink," Pheros urged again.

Slowly he reached for the mug. His hands were numb, and even moving them to grasp the column of the earthen ware without spilling the content required almost all of his strength and focus. A tiny sip, and his throat felt as if burned. He coughed. It _was _water, thank Naga, but his throat had been so dry that the warm liquid had felt like boiling lava.

He heard Pheros mumbling something under her breath, and quickly the guard took the mug from his hands and pressed it to his lips, another hand was moving to keep his lips parted open. The mug was tipped up, and fluid poured out. He saw blinding light behind closed lids, but the stale water travelled down fast. Some mouthfuls later, his coughing fit was renewed. Robin jerked away. The guard pulled back.

He felt better, however slightly. "What do you want?" His voice was rough from disuse, but he'd managed the words clear enough for Pheros to hear.

"Now you can speak. Good."

Robin moved into a sitting position. His spine ached at the movement, but he ignored it. A better look at the woman told him that she was not here to interrogate him for political matters. The face was impassive, but the eyes were not. There was curiosity lurking beneath the cool orbs. Curiosity, as well as something that resembled caution and bemusement combined. A second later, he realized that it was veneration.

"You are a man of intelligence and high reputation," said Pheros slowly. "I could not fathom as to why someone with a rank like yours would come willingly to the lands of your enemy, even when knowing full well it was a trap."

Robin blinked a few times to shove away the lingering migraine that clouded his mind and sight. "I did what must be done."

"Even after considering the price you'd have to pay?" The tone was low, and it made him conscious of the state he was in: bruised and battered, clothed only in tattered remnants of his travelling clothes, his skin coated in dried blood.

Robin offered only his silence.

"You do know that in a war like this, the worth of a reputable man of a tactful mind is far superior compared to that of a minor royal blood and some noble-born-and-bred lady."

He knew. He also knew that should the letter had gone firsthand to the senior members of the senate, it would have been torn without much deliberation. With great regret and sadness, yes, but not without a wasteful minute. "I have already told you: I only did what I must."

"You love your country all that much."

It was not phrased as a question, and so, Robin offered no reply.

"Do know that I would have called you delusional…" She stopped as if trying to come with a better word. She shook her head. "You _are _perhaps just that. And it makes two of us."

Robin observed the woman more closely this time. Her expression had darkened, her eyes not looking at him or anything in present. "I had been drawn to the halidom you so love, once; drawn in to its idealism and spirit, awed by its principle."

Comprehension dawned in. With it, there came a new pain that bloomed and pulsed like a second heartbeat. "You listened to _her_…"

"Yes. Walked day and night all the way to the capitol, just to see the exalted child of Naga and hear her words. Her gift to inspire was unquestionable. I instantly knew she possessed not only the spirit of Naga, but also the wisdom of the god." A mirthless smile curved her mouth. "But spirit and wisdom alone do not change a realm. Nor do they sustain a country. I looked down to the people one day, and realized that her words and faith failed to provide for the poor, failed to prevent men and women from suffering. That was when I saw the truth: no gods above should be worshipped or relied on to. We should look for the ones that have taken the form of humans—who have descended onto the realm of mortal and chosen to walk among us."

"…Your lord… Is Walhart the answer of your prayers, then?"

"Through and through. He is everything I have dreamed of and prayed for. He is everything a man could ever become. He is the embodiment of godhood. And what's more: he is _real_. You do not go to a temple to plead for his guidance and wait for some ambiguous answers which may or may not come. He commands with a voice of authority, in a language we understand, and it is done. He does not only inspire; he acts upon his words. You may not understand my rapture, but I know… I just _know _that all this time, he is the ruler whom I am destined to serve."

As strange as it was, he understood. He had experienced something alike. Except, in his case, he had not shied away from the light. He'd chosen to embrace it, because he had stood closest to the bringer, heard her dreams from her own mouth, witnessed how…humane she was, how fragile and headstrong. _Like a child sharing her dream with a close friend_… That was how she had looked that day, with a shy smile on her lips and a look of longing and hope alighting her eyes.

'_Do you have dreams, Rob?'_

"Words are nothing if they do not carry power and incite action," Pheros was saying. "The late Exalt of Ylisse's words are but a mere whisper."

"A whisper…" He pushed himself straighter. "They may be."

"Yet you cling to it."

He met her eyes, unblinking. "Yes."

The gravity of the moment weighed on his shoulders like a bag loaded with stones. The woman may not be Excellus, but he knew that angering her meant death all the same. Pheros was silent as she tried to read his eyes. He let her. Playing mind games and reading emotions were his forte, not hers. He knew ways of turning the table in such a game, and right now, he chose the simplest form of tactic, which was to meet her head on. Let her see her own reflection in his eyes, let her read nothing but her own deductions.

"You are a strange man, Grand Master Robin." Pheros gave her attempt up with a loud outtake of breath. "When I said 'it makes the two of us,' I meant it, you know. I recognize a drunk man when I see one."

"You and I drink from the same jug of ale."

Pheros shared his smile, entertaining the thought. "Perhaps you're right…" And at her chortle the tension in the room was lifted. "And that's what makes you a good company, Grand Master of Ylisse. It is a shame I will never win you over to our side."

"That, you will never."

"Worry not, I know better than to try." Pheros scrunched her nose. "Honor dictates me to move you to a living quarter far merrier than this gods-forsaken place, but…" She let her words trail off.

Robin caught on what she could not say. Political standings; matters of the court. She was a general, and Excellus was _the _tactician. Judging from the poor choice of vocabularies Pheros had used to refer to Excellus, the only tie keeping them together was their allegiance to the same lord. He nodded at the chains at his feet. "You've showed your honor enough, Lady."

"A strange thing, fate is. For us to meet in such poor circumstances. To think that of all places, this conversation could have happened somewhere else… Somewhere free from the foul stench of blood and sounds of war."

She was saying his thoughts aloud. A stranger thing: for someone in the enemy ranks to fully understand him. The first someone. "It could have been worse."

Pheros eyed the menacing looking tools that were lining the racks and table. "I suppose so. One question, though: why cling to a dead ruler's dreams?"

There were many answers that rose within him to meet the question. Some of them stemmed from logic. Most of them from emotion. "Because her dreams are alive."

That was his belief—his faith.

For what other explanation could he come up with? They had opened his eyes, they had given him purpose in life. They had lifted him up from the pit of nothingness.

Her dreams were alive. Would forever be—within him, for as long as he lived.

* * *

\- A -

* * *

A day's ride would be all it took for them to reach the Fort of Steiger. A day's ride, Chrom told himself, for the umpteenth time that day. Only a day's ride, and he would make right everything that was wrong.

In one corner of the medic's tent, Lissa was curling into a ball in her cot, Sumia and Maribelle sitting close to her. Maribelle had claimed that she'd suffered no injuries and thus, refused any treatment and was stubbornly sticking close to Lissa's side. Lissa herself had suffered only minor physical wounds, from rough travels, most like, but she was refusing to talk to anyone other than Maribelle. The latter had suffered through a similar experience back then, and that, coupled with her spirit of defiance and pride, made her a stronger person. Still, whenever he looked at them, Chrom felt like breaking something.

He chose to stalk off the tent and returned to the heart of the camp, where the gathering tent was. There he found Gaius sitting by a makeshift bench with a bowl of cold soup in his hands. "Eat up," Chrom said as he took a seat beside him. "You've traversed a long and dangerous way. I could never thank you enough for bringing them both back."

Gaius managed a faint shrug but chose to set his bowl aside. "Good Naga. Has the Prince of Ylisse just said that he was _indebted_ to me?"

"Let me guess… You're planning to ask for a ransom of sweets for the rest of your life?"

"Hmm. I did consider that. A sweet bargain. But nope, Blue. I'm setting my eyes on something different this time around." When Gaius looked at him, his eyes had this dark glint that usually meant that the trickster was brewing a plan for some serious misconduct.

"Name it."

"Lemme be the one to detach the head of that fatso from his body."

In all their days fighting together, Chrom had never seen Gaius angry. Irritated, yes. Angry, no. He himself was a bundle of restless energy, but it paled in the face of ferocity that was reflected in the trickster's expression. Before he could answer to that, Lucina and Say'ri came in.

"Preparations are complete, Father," she announced.

"Ah… Thank you." Chrom had again to shake disbelief off his mind. He still had not been used to being called 'father' by a woman who looked to be no more than five or six years his junior in age.

And he saw that he wasn't the only one unaccustomed to it too. "You know, Blue… I'm not sure I had heard you right when you explained that time travel thing…"

Lucina politely nodded in greeting to Gaius. "I believe this is the first time we've met in this current timeline, Sir Gaius."

"See?" Gaius cocked both eyebrows. "She even calls me 'Sir'!"

Lucina failed to see the good humour and went to explain how, in the future, Gaius was—or perhaps would become—a renowned member of the Shepherds who'd fight bravely to defend the realms. This had the orange-haired man staring at Lucina with wide eyes. Chrom chose to steer himself out of the topic and left the two to sit in a corner with Say'ri.

"Any words of your brother?" he asked her. Say'ri was the Princess of Chon'shin. A princess on the run, to be more precise. Chrom had met her when they had docked on the port a few days ago. Or was it a week ago? Everything had moved so quickly with each turn of events surprising him with twists he could scarce believe that he had felt as though he'd lost track of time.

"Oh, aye," she answered. Her face was glum. "He hasn't moved to intercept the decoy attack. It is likely that he's been ordered to stand on guard. Either they've found out our plan, or they're overly confident in their numbers and abilities."

"I'd wager it is the latter." He hated to think otherwise without Robin to offer feedbacks on his speculations and decisions. "Have faith in us. We have with us the most capable of men and women who are willing to fight to end the reign of the Conqueror."

"Of that, I never doubt, kind Prince. It's just that I fear the enemy lurks closer than we think."

"You shouldn't worry about that. Our scouts have informed us that there's no army marching to flank our rear. They're planning to seal our route back to the port, and so, they've centered their number there."

"Then how can you be so sure that there will be a safe way back once we claim Fort Steiger?"

"I don't know of a way, but I know someone who will think up a devious way out of all this."

"You mean your Grand Master, Robin? I've known him in name only. Rumors and chatters."

"I've known him in person, and I trust him."

Say'ri regarded him with a look of tentativeness. He'd gotten used to that, with Frederick around. "But he is in captivity…!" she said in a whisper.

Sometimes, being a leader means you have to put your insecurities and anxieties aside to comfort those with the same ailments. Sometimes, being a leader sucks, Chrom decided as he heaved a breath. "I've known the man for a good deal of time, Say'ri. My trust is not groundless. I've seen him pulling all sorts of tricks, which in the end, have saved my life—as well as my comrades'—dozens of times. Things may look murky from where we stand now. But I believe…I want to believe that this too shall pass with our heads firmly attached."

She was contemplative about this, but then nodded. "I will trust in your promise, Prince Chrom. I only pray that this Robin would still be alive and well enough to answer your faith in him by the time we get to the fort."

Well, that was another matter entirely. With a forced smile, Chrom hefted himself up and made his way out of the tent.

"Where are you off to, Father?" Lucina called after him.

"To break a few dummies and practice swords."

That Robin… He'd better be prepared for some good punch and a thorough interrogation.

* * *

\- x x x -

* * *

**_A/N: _**_Surprise, surprise: I'm not dead! Yet... Well. Ahem. __Thank you, always, for reading, faving, following, and reviewing! Thesis is still in the way, but I'll manage! Stay tuned, the Battle of Steiger is coming...! And now, on to reviews!_

_Narzz: Thank you! I do hope my cliffhangers do not miss the mark ;) | LiamReyes: Thank your for your reviews! Yes, the story is building up. I hope to reveal more soon! | Guest [who asked about RxC in chapter 10]: It's going. Maybe in circles, maybe over slopes and hills, but it's going there to the romance theme I advertised in the status, I promise :) | csihawk: Thank you! This might be ultra late, but happy birthday to you! | GoingGone: Nope, not wrong at all :') Maybe I'll think about making one... | patattack: Thank you for reviewing! I am looking forward to what my Muse will come write too. | Spiner909: Thank you! It will not be deserted, I promise. | Guest: I did not mean to stress you, just to hang readers over a cliffhanger. Thank you for your kind words! | pkmn2112: Yes... I'm in great need of luck. And I am so glad that you found the characters accurate! | Oblique Moon &amp; Lazullee: I...will leave that as a fan theory. Lol. | Merchant Prince: Dear good prince, your lengthy review and kind words have thoroughly melted my heart :'D I'm happy to hear readers' perspectives and constructive feedbacks. | Squaco: I never liked him too. | Capn StarSparoow: Yes, I will draw more perhaps if I have some free time. I ship them too! | SharaOh: Glad I still have an active reviewer :") | Gray411: Hmm, maybe Henry? | blissford angel: I'm actually team Emm too...! :') Alas this is a Cordelia fic... Sob | NovCat: What a list! I am not mean! | SimbaSam: Yes, I will! | Milk Shake Soda 0: Yes, Sir, I will, Sir! | Vididimuss: Exactly what I thought! I dislike the 'instant' attraction the game seemed to steer them into, and so, this fanfic was born. | Gray Hawke: Glad to know Cordelia still has some supporters! So where am I... TeamEmm or TeamC...? Argh! | FamOOwl: Nope, he sure is not. I will! | FireEmblemMae: Thank you! Yours are amazing as well :D I will review once I manage to find the time! Thesis is terorrizing me... | HalgrEN-212: Glad to know that it is to your liking! And yes, I am working on correcting the tiny errors you spoke of. _


	13. Chapter 13

_If there was one place which interior he could picture perfectly in a heartbeat it would be the royal library of Ylisstol. He knew the place by heart, he'd bet that he could traverse through the maze of bookshelves with his eyes closed. From the moment he'd been introduced to the storage of knowledge, he'd spent countless of hours sitting in one corner, surrounded by stacks of books and scrolls, digging into whatever materials that piqued his interest._

_He'd made the library his sanctuary. _

_Said sanctuary was now hollow and filled with misery._

_The bookshelves were there, but there were no books. There were tables and chairs, but the familiar mountains of scrolls that usually sat by their feet were nowhere to be seen. The windows were open, and the evening sunlight that poured into the room was harsh and almost blinding. The light seemed brutal and unforgiving; it made him feel exposed—vulnurable._

_A figure he knew all too well was standing before a window. Her back was against him, golden hair cascading down her slender waist. How he ached to see her face, her smiling eyes. _

_Was this a dream...? Or had he joined her in the afterlife? Driven by a surge of longing, he took a step closer to her. _

_At his approach the library shifted. It crumbled into nothingness, and a cliff, a familiar cliff that stood at the edge of a forest, emerged. _

_A red full moon was dangling across the vast sky. She took one step towards the edge. _

_He ran, shouted her name, pleaded for her to stop._

_But she didn't turn away. She didn't stop her feet from moving. _

_She fell into the abyss below, and his world came down with her._

* * *

**Chapter 13**

**Flight**

* * *

The knives were sharp. As sharp as they'd ever be. Still, Gaius felt the need to unleash them from their sheaths and put some whetsone to work.

The knives were sharp. Sharp enough to cut down men and women who stood behind those accursed fort of bricks and woods. Still, he couldn't help wondering if they would be sharp enough to dig through the fatso's plump flesh. Were they sharp enough to rip his hands off? His feet? His eyes? Wait. Wrong order of questions. Eyes were the easiest part. Feet and hands had bones, and bones were harder to cut than sinews and chunks of fat.

Hmm. Probably not. His knives were sharp and good, but they would have been bloodied by the time he reached the tactician, stained by the blood of Valmese soldiers whom Excellus would have kept close to his person. Bloodied, dulled. His throwing knives wouldn't do any cutting all that well. He would need a third combat knife specifically for the job. And a fourth as well if he wanted to have an easier time with the bones.

"You're searching for these?"

He had not heard her footsteps, had not heard the flapping of tent which must have signaled her coming, and he silently rebuked himself for being so lost in thought as he turned around and met a pair of light crimson eyes. "Shouldn't you still be resting, Twinkles?" He received a pair of knives that she offered and checked the blades. They had just been sharpened, he guessed, for they glistened in the dimly lit space. They were a bit heavier than the ones he had. But heavier knives made cutting easier. All in all, they were in a good condition.

Maribelle tucked loose strands of golden hair behind one ear, her eyes trailing to the rack of weapons behind Gaius. She was already clothed in her usual riding attire, he saw. Tight hard leather and blouse which softly outlined her figure, a dancing blur in the flickering lanternlight.

"What good lying in bed is when sleep couldn't even find me? Do you mind stepping aside for a little bit? I need to find a weapon to replace my broken staff."

He took a step back as he strapped the knives to his belt. "Whatever happened to your staff?"

"Got a bit careless and broke it last night."

The stiff end to the sentence left no hole for him to probe. He watched her as she picked and observed a selection of staffs and wands. One side of her mouth was pulled down in a cynical slant, but her eyes, darting from one side to the next as she pondered her choice, held a tired, hollow look.

When she picked out a staff with a pointy end, Gaius swiftly stole it from her hand and placed the weapon back into the rack. "What are you doing?!"

"You don't need such a weapon, Twinkles. Your job is to cast spells, not to pierce holes into somebody's butt."

Her face hardened. Rage lit those eyes, turning them into the color of bright red. "There is no way in heaven I'll stand by and cast spells from afar. I'm going to execute that Excellus bastard. I'm going to—"

Whatever words of vengeful vow that she was going to say were muffled when he pulled her close. He felt her tensing in surprise. "Sorry, but the honorable task will be mine." Her hair smelled of bonfire and cinnamon powder. The sweet, intoxicating scent seeped into his system, sedating his mind, numbing his senses. "Relax. Just for a moment. You—_we_ will need our senses and strength when we tear that damn fort to pieces."

Against all judgement she did. He could feel her leaning into his shoulder, her breath escaping in a long, silent sigh.

It was a wordless moment, surreal, and simply blissful. It made him forget the fact that there was a war looming in the horizon. It made him forget that they were in the land of their enemy. Briefly, Gaius wondered if time could be told to grind into a halt. A futile thought, of course, for time never listened to anyone, nor it ever stopped its relentless march.

The shout to break encampment echoed, and he willed himself to pull away from her. He looked into her eyes.

"It'll be meaningless to tell you to stay out of trouble, huh?"

She smiled. "As meaningless as it is for me to tell you the same."

"Fair enough."

They came out of the tent, to the semi-darkness of dusk and bustling Shepherds and Ylissean soldiers who were preparing for battle. They separated ways, Maribelle going to where Libra and Lissa were tending to their horses, and him going to the mouth of the encampment complex, where two figures of blue hair stood.

From afar, the Lord of Ylisse and the Princess who came from the future looked like siblings at best, with their features and colors matching each other perfectly. Ask a random passerby, and they'd say the same thing of the pair. So that was why, when told about all that time travel stuff, he had been sure that he'd hit his head upon waking up, or that the lady had been nuts altogether. So there was some kind of gods—entities greater than humans, that he'd believed to be a myth up until yesterday—that could mess with the passage of time and open strange portals to send mortals to the past and beyond. Huh. Either he _was _going mad or the world was ending.

"Sir Gaius," Lucina nodded in greeting.

"Er, would you mind dropping the 'Sir'? I know you mean well, but it kinda sounds...wrong to my ears."

Lucina seemed unsure, but Chrom grinned and said, "Just comply to the request, Lucina. The only time people will ever call Gaius 'Sir' is only when, by some miracle, the notion to bathe and wear a clean set of outfit finally makes sense to him."

"Hey, I do take a bath every now and then," he retorted.

"Yeah. It's a shame that your 'every now and then' translates as 'every once in a week or so.'"

He puffed a breath into the air. "You won't complain about me bathing in some substance other than water, will you?"

It took some seconds for Chrom to realize that there was no joviality in Gaius' words. "You remember the talk we had?" At Chrom's reluctance to affirm, Gaius knew his Lord had caught what he meant. He clicked his tongue when silence hang in the air. Impatience was kicking in. "You haven't given me permission, Blue. Let me be the one to slay that damned fatso."

Chrom opened his mouth to speak, but promptly closed it again. Lucina was the one to spoke. "With all due respect, S—Gaius, I understand your anger very well. I also understand that you wish only to repay the enemy with the same 'respect' they'd shown our comrades." Gaius chanced a rebuttal, but Lucina held her hand and continued. "With Grand Master Robin in captivity, any rash actions could lead to his doom. It had been advised previously by the Grand Master himself that we were to launch a surprise attack and take the fort. Structure of the fort told us that it was unlikely that there should not be a secret passageway that Excellus wouldn't use once our forces break inside. Any brash pursuits after claiming the fort would only weaken our forces."

He understood. He understood that. Damned be the sages, he knew what a siege was. And he also happened to know just how cowardly that Valmese tactician could be. The guy was not the type to defend a surrounded castle to death; he'd flee at the barest indication of defeat. He knew all of that. Still, the anger within him refused to be quelled.

Chrom put a hand on Lucina's shoulder and shook his head. When he looked at Gaius, he saw his own rage reflected on those cool blue orbs. "I know just how much you want the task. Believe me. I know." That look, that pained look that had been shadowed by the weight of commandership, told him that he'd be glad to do the job himself should the chance arise. "We will not pursue the enemy if they were to retreat from the fort. Have I made myself clear?"

It took all of his will power to stay rooted to the gound and keep his fist from flying. Through gritted teeth, he whispered a low "yes."

"I will, however, give you permission to lead the charge from the east side."

Gaius sharply looked up, first at Chrom, then at Lucina, whose unfaltering gaze confirmed the words his lord father had said. "Olivia has sent out a message depicting the layout and posts in and around the fort. The enemy has employed pegasii riders and archers, but they are heavily clustered around the main gate and the west, where the garrison is. Henry will go with you."

"Henry?"

Seemingly out of nowhere, a skinny youth of pale complexion appeared. The guy had this huge smile plastered on his face, as if someone had picked up a nail and hammer and sculpted it. The smile was not friendly, Gaius realized. More like crazy. And judging by the robe he wore, he was a mage or some sort. "It's nice to meet you, Trickster," the guy said in a sing-songy tone.

There was nothing nice in meeting guys whose minds had gone past the border of sanity. He knew that from first-hand experience living in the streets. There were a plenty of guys who were just like this Henry person. Some of them were armed with dirty bowls to attract sympathy, others with daggers and knives to assail unsuspecting pedestrians. You'd want nothing to do with both. You'd want even _less _involvement with one who was carrying a magic tome.

"Do you know the route?" Gaius asked Chrom.

Henry beat Chrom in answering. "No worries! My winged friends have informed me reaaaally well! I know of a forest passageway that we can traverse. There shouldn't be no problem getting there undetected once the sun has completely set!"

Gaius raised his eyebrows at the mention of 'winged friends,' but Henry seemed oblivious to it and proceeded only to laugh and mimic a high-pitched sound of a strangled animal.

Chrom cleared his throat, which sounded more like a feeble cough in his trial to assert a little measure of authority. It did little to appease Henry's mad cackling. "Well. As you can see," he said to Gaius, "our new friend is a little...eccentric."

Gaius didn't reply with words, but his face probably said '_eccentric my ass' _all by itself.

"He is a Plegian mage whose skills are not to be questioned. You'll find in him a valuable ally in battle," Chrom went on. "Your task is to infiltrate the fort walls and send a signal. It will not be hard. We've timed everything according to Olivia's troupe performance just before dinnertime. They will not expect what's coming."

"Okay. Pair a thief with an insane spell-caster, and you have your infiltration team, huh?" Gaius swore he could never understand his Lord or his Grand Master's logic. "Tell me why I should trust my back to this guy again? Where did you meet him anyway? Some mental asylum for the magically inspired?"

"As I said, Henry's aptitude with magic is astounding, and he shared our views and goals. He has helped us a couple of times in getting through a horde of undead."

There were more arguments forming in Gaius' head, but at the end, he chose to keep them to himself. He had more knives which he could throw should the mage act against him.

"Aside from being manned by a thin number of forces, there is a Pegasii stables close to the east gates."

Ah. He was beginning to see what exactly Chrom had in mind. "Wreak some havoc. Free the beasts, reduce their manpower."

"And throw these to the sky," Chrom said as he handed Gaius a small bundle the size of a little kid's palm.

"These are...?"

"Miriel's newest invention. The mage will be able to produce the fire needed to alight it. We'll storm the fort from two sides the moment you shoot it. Mind the distance; you don't want it to blow too close to your face."

Gaius pocketed the bundle with care. "Fancy. You'll hear the 'boom' in an hour."

* * *

\- A -

* * *

It wasn't the lingering anxiety before the performance that made her steak taste like an old boot. No, it wasn't the stage fright. That usually sent her mind reeling and wet her palms, but this time, she was suffering some ailment of a higher level than a mere stage fright. This was, after all, _the _night.

For the sixty fourth time that day—yes, she'd counted—Olivia drew the list of Cordelia's request, item per item. She'd made sure that she'd gotten everything in place, but still her mind and heart were beating in tandem as they voiced their doubts. Had she gotten every item correctly? She had. Or she hoped she had. Would things go smoothly? She _prayed _it would. Rob had a plan, right? She had a plan, and so had Cordelia. So it should be alright.

Gingerly stabbing a large chunk of meat that was her dinner, Olivia's mind returned to the days before Valm. Those days seemed so far away now, it was as if she was remembering pieces of a forgotten childhood.

'_Worrying too much will never get you anywhere,' _she remembered him saying. A small wooden theater came into her mind, a vivid image that she often summoned and rotated to ward off anxiety and the feeling of helplessness that often attacked. It was a typical theater, with an open-fronted entrance that led to the main stage. _'If we've succeeded in making this one, won't the know-how aid us in scaling everything up?'_

_Rob's right._ _Everything is a simple matter of scaling things up_, she told herself. This time would be no different. Should be no different. She had beeb performing before the Valmese just all right. She'd survived battles and a war before. Yes, she could go through this.

Someone tapped her shoulder. She shrieked and jumped, and if it weren't for a swift hand that shot up to catch her plate, her dinner would be splattered on the stone floor.

"Whoa, whoa, lassie, didn't mean to surprise you there," said a lanky man that was her troupe leader. "Gosh, you're as tight as a mandola string! I was just goin' to tell you that we'll be performin' in five minutes."

"Oh. Yes. Right. I'll... I'll get ready."

The man's eyes narrowed at the uneaten portion on Olivia's plate. "You sure you okay, lassie? You look a lil' white there."

Fixing her expression, she forced a smile through the nauseating feeling that sat in her stomach. "I'm perfectly fine."

"Huh. I know that our food's seasoning can a be a lil' bit too intense for Ylisseans. But are you sure you al'right?"

_By the hells, no_. "Yes. There's nothing to worry about."

"Well, if you say so..."

As soon as the leader left, Olivia abandoned her half-full plate and went to the storage room where she'd hidden Cordelia's stash of requested items in an empty wine barrel. Her heart almost stopped beating when she found the barrel to be devoid of content. Cordelia must have found and retrieved the stash.

"Lassie!" Her troupe leader's voice carried through the hallway. "It's time!"

"C-coming!" Doubling over, she ran to give her last performance before the curtains of battle were raised.

* * *

\- A -

* * *

The first thing he picked up was the sound of music. The melody was distant, and through the haze that had been fogging his mind, it was hard to tell whether he was hallucinating or not. He had been in and out of consciousness for the past few hours. Pheros' visit—when had she come? What time was now?—had been his last meal-day. In the hours that followed, what came was a rain of questions, probing, threats, insults, thrusts of needle and jabs of fists.

The questioning had been the easy part. Excellus had Cordelia, a willing informant within his clutch, and so, his visits to the dungeon were often only for the sake of his dark amusement.

The guards that stood by the doors, however, adhered to Pheros' orders and would lower his chains whenever Excellus was done with his games. The weight of his body had tired his shoulder sockets long before Pheros had a care to lower the chains, and now, lying motionless on the floor, he could only hope that they had not been fractured. Weakened by blood loss, thirst, and hunger, Robin didn't have to rely on spells to drowse himself. It was staying awake that was beginning to be arduous. Whenever he was lost in the vacuum of his mind, his consciousness would drift, and dreams that took many shapes given by memories, fears, and regrets would be waiting for him.

As strange as it was, he would prefer those dreams. He would prefer the non-reality where he could see faces he'd been longing to see, or those of people whom he couldn't remember the names and significance. Was he going insane? Perhaps.

The guard who had been sitting by the doorway grunted as he woke from his slumber. The music had gotten louder, merrier. The Valmese wiped his drool on his chin with the back of his glove, then spat. He looked at Robin, stood up from his chair, and approached him. A kick to the stomach, a dull pain that reverbrated through his ribs and bones, fully opened his eyes. Robin coughed and stirred. "You're alive... Good." The Valmese nudged Robin with his boot. "You know, I've been missing the performance since the day you came. At least stay alive to keep my pay from being cut, will ya?"

There was a chorus of laughter that echoed from the courtyard. The guard spat again. "Bah. They're making me do this boring job, always. Were it not for a misfortune in lot-drawing, I—"

A sound of explosion cut him mid-sentence. The guard leapt in surprise, cursed, and before he could manage to reach the doors, they swung inward and a spear flew right into his neck, impaling him against the wall.

Robin only saw a blur of red hair and movements. He bit back a cry of pain when he was pulled into a sitting position.

Something cool trickled into his mouth. Water. He tilted his chin upward to have more from the jug she was pressing to his lips. Some mouthfuls afterward, the jug was tossed away in favor of a small flask containing light blue liquid that smelled like peppermint. It tasted like water but slightly more bitter, the concoction. He drained it in one big gulp.

He blinked his eyes open as his thoughts cleared and what semblance of strength returned to his body. No, not nearly enough to silence the pain or eradicate the poison in his system, but it gave him vigor to move through his sore muscles' protest. Cordelia had retrieved her spear, and was now working on his chains, using a key she'd looted from the dead guard.

"They've arrived?"

"Yes," she curtly answered. A clicking sound. Two, three, four. The weight that had been shackling his wrists and feet fell away. She turned, grabbed him by his arm. Faces in close proximity, there was no mistaking of the emotions that were clashing and swirling in her eyes. He identified worry first and foremost, then a sense of urgency, then fear. "Can you stand?"

Robin offered a tentative nod. His feet felt wobbly, and his spine felt as though it had turned into something non-solid. But with her help, he managed to haul himself up. The world spun around him, his shoulders and back were burning with pain. Cordelia took his left arm and slung it over her shoulder to support half of his weight.

They exited the dungeon and came into the back courtyard that was now in utter chaos. Music had been replaced by sounds of steel meeting steel, hissing arrows, and a great deal of shouting. The Shepherds had infiltrated the fort from two sides. The eastern wall that was closest to where they were had been breached; he saw Valmese soldiers lying bloodied on the grass or hanging limp from the rampart. The wall to the southeast was black where fire and magic had hit it. But the evening chill air felt worse of all; it stung Robin's wounds, and should he be walking by himself, he would have faltered.

A Valmese knight closest to the dungeon's entrance was a second too late in realizing that it was no comrade who had emerged from the block. A precise stab to the waist, where his sturdy armor left little room for fluidity in movement as well as a much needed opening, sent him down to his knees. Another swing, and the knight's head was severed from his body.

Downing a full-armored knight in less than three seconds in itself was an admirable feat. Downing a knight in less than three seconds while dragging a wounded man was something else entirely. Robin bet that she would have done a much cleaner and quicker job if it weren't for him weighing down on her.

As they trudged on, some of the few combatants still left standing within the east courtyard took notice of their attempt to escape. Before any of Valmese soldiers had the chance to aim their weapons or reach them, throwing knives had felled them where they stood. An indistinct flutter of dark cloak moving briskly amongst the inner structure of the courtyard and enemies was all Robin could make of their helper.

Cordelia half-dragged Robin to what seemed to be a remnant of a stable. The woods were burnt, and the structure had been ruined, leaving the place desolately empty save for one lone Pegasus which was kicking and neighing violently against the rope that prevented it from escape. The beast had been saddled, with bags strapped to its sides. It fiercely stomped its front feet at their approach, but calmed down once Cordelia touched its neck and petted its mane.

She mounted the Pegasus in one swift movement, and had to haul Robin who almost screeched at the strenuous climb. Cordelia cut the rope that was tying the Pegasus to a wooden pillar with her spear. "Try not to lose balance," she told him. Without waiting for any sort of reply, she took the reins and gave the beast a kick.

Easier to be said than done. The Pegasus stood on its rear feet, stretched its wings, and Robin almost fell off its back. He slipped an arm around Cordelia's waist on time, steeled himself, forcing his mind to think of nothing once the Pegasus galloped.

Gravity released their grip on them. Powerful motions of the beast's wings send them higher, up into the bleak sky of cobalt blue.

Robin chanced a look westward. Judging by the voices and noise, the fighting was centered around the main gates. Sure enough, he saw streaks of licking fire and flashes of magic in the direction. Not unlike Tharja's spells he'd known so far, but he would have sworn he saw a swarm of crows pillaging the scene.

They were yet to reach past the outer wall when a lightning strike came from several feet below them. It missed them by mere inches. The air was humming with electricity, and it left an unpleasant sensation on Robin's skin. Two Dark Fliers, mounted on dark winged mounts of fiery red eyes, were hot on their trails. Both were equipped with tomes and were already chanting their next spells.

Cordelia steered the Pegasus to the left, taking a sharp turn that made Robin's insides lurch. Another strike came, and again, Cordelia's astute timing in reeling the reins saved them from free-falling down to the ground.

Slowed down by the repeated attacks, the Pegasus was losing momentum. Cordelia was about to bring the beast to a higher altitude when Robin grabbed her arm and held it firm. "What are you doing?" she shouted over one shoulder.

"Let them close in."

"Are you insane?! My spear won't be able to handle them both at the same time!" The way she looked at him added the accusation that was left unsaid: _not with you sitting behind me and restricting my movements._

Robin ignored it. "You have the things Miriel gave you?"

Confusion colored her expression, and in the next second, understanding. She fished out a small leather pouch from her saddlebag and gave it to Robin. He unwrapped the content and took a fistful of candles. "Now, slow the beast down."

A pull on the reins, and the Pegasus complied. Noticing their prey stalling in the air, the two pursuers increased their pace.

Robin took a deep intake of breath. He focused on the most basic form of magic that he'd worked on during the sleepless nights spent in Ylisstol. Circles of runes and symbols appeared before his eyes, clear as a noonday sun. He'd memorized each and every curve, every drawing, every word of ancient meaning and knowledge. _Imagine the heat_. Blood rushed through his veins like boiling water. Along with it, a pulse of energy. _Control the flow._

The cold air around them dissipated. Suffussed magical energy flowed through his right arm and onto his palm. Upon first contact with the material world, it took a form of a white fire.

He threw the candles towards the Fliers.

The first candle hit the closest Flier right in the head. The fire and impact swallowed him and his beast whole. The second missed the Flier below the first one, but it exploded close enough to the tip of the black beast's wing, and the shocking heat rendered the beast and its rider stunned. Robin wasted no time in directing the fire still burning in the runes on his arm to the second Flier. The attack caught the panicking Valmese off guard, and in no more than seconds it consumed steel, leather, and flesh alike.

Spooked by the sound of explosion, the Pegasus they rode jerked and steered away as fast as it could in an abrupt dive. Cordelia quickly reined the Pegasus back. She shot a look of indignation at her passenger. "Warn me the next time you wish to fry things."

He would have made a jest off of it. He would have replied with a blunt remark of how dubious it was to warn a soul a moment before launching a preemptive strike. But the magic had depleted his already shallow pool stamina. Acid roiled in his belly. Sucking in a shallow breath, he also felt the cost of magic from the runes on his arm. They dried his skin, fed on his energy, and it escalated the pain from his wounds. Once again he was blind.

Quick in noticing his lack of response, Cordelia caught Robin's hand, just as it was about to slip off. She latched her fingers atop his, pulling him against her back. He had not the strength to sit firm on his own; his senses were shutting down, one by one, as his body acted on its own to conserve enough energy to keep his heart from neglecting its work.

Amidst it all, he heard, or perhaps imagined, her whispering, "Hold on. And stay alive."

* * *

\- x x x -

* * *

_**A/N: **__I will begin this Author's Note with a big, big, apology. I have just gone from a one-year-hiatus, pretty much without notice; life had been so crazy after thesis, and there were just so many things I had to wrestle with—such as family crisis, depression, and career-path-building—that writing had simply gone out of the window. And since my mind was in no state to form a coherent sentence, I could only rely on one media of catharsis that doesn't require any thinking: drawing. For those of you who wonder why I've been uploading artworks on deviantart but neglecting fanfiction, this is the best explanation I can give you. Of course, it doesn't stop me from feeling remorseful. I am sorry once again._

_Also, after not logging in to this site for a year, I am moved to the point of near-choked-by-my-own-tears to see views and reviews are still alive. I am so, so thankful for the support and attention you give to 'BLAMED.' I am sorry I can't reply to your review one by one like I used to, but I am going to finish this story. After not writing for about a year, going back to Word and elaborating scenes that were constantly playing in my mind was tremenduously remedial. I hope there won't be any more long lapses in between chapters, as there will only be a few left after this one, but I can't make any promises on that. _

_Upcoming chapters will focus more on Rob and Cordelia. Not so much as trotting behind the canon plotline of FE:A, since I believe that there are already many fanfics out there who've done a marvelous job at that. _

_Anyways, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you again for reading and supporting 'BLAMED.' _


	14. Chapter 14

_He was standing before a mass of tombstones with no names._

_They only had numbers; dates. All of them referred back to the day of his grand failure, where the world had mocked his childlike attempt in stopping the inexorable. _

_He walked, searching, looking at each and every slab of stone. For a name. For _any _name._

_He needed a name. If he was ever to apologize, then surely he would need one... A letter with no address does not reach anyone, doesn't it? No mailman would take upon the task of bearing a letter with no destination. _

_But his quest was fruitless. There was no end to the tombstones, no end to the field, and he had yet to find a name._

* * *

**Chapter 14**

**Reminiscence**

* * *

When the sounds of battle had dimmed and sharp shadows of jutting rocks and cliffs came into view, Cordelia knew that she had flown past the borders of Valm's central plains.

Save for the two Fliers who had fallen victim to Robin's pyromancy, the only attempt of pursuit made by the Valmese had only taken shape in a barrage of arrows which, by the time the Pegasus had reached a new height, were not so much of an obstacle. The Shepherds had freed most of winged beasts stationed in the fort. A meager number of Pheros' soldiers who could get their hands on the beasts were stalled by the Ylisseans. But that in itself didn't guarantee a passage free of threats. Apart from the soldiers at Fort Steiger, she knew that there were several posts that outlined the plains and mountains to the west. Hence her attempt in flying high and taking a longer route by circling past the frontier to the south.

Rather than possible prying eyes or pursuers, however, she was more fearful of the life of the man who sat behind her. Robin had been mute and motionless since they'd made their escape. His head was resting on her shoulder, and she was made keenly aware of his slow, yet irregular breathing, as he would suck in a ragged breath, and expelled it many seconds later than she dared to count. Her heart felt as though it would sink whenever too long of a moment lapsed without him starting the cycle anew.

The hand that she was holding was cold. Each time, she would try to elicit a response from him by squeezing it. His responses had been minimal; more often than not, he would fail to even muster enough strength to attempt a movement of a finger. But at the very least she knew that he was still there.

Cordelia steered the Pegasus to dive onto the rocky terrain below, to a thinly forested gorge which had a small river running along it. The Pegasus softly landed and trotted on the uneven ground. She could feel Robin stir; the landing must have reverberated through his body and wounds.

As careful as she could, she entangled herself from Robin and dismounted. She helped him down—if down meant him almost falling over the Pegasus' back. And if not for a quick reflex borne through countless hours of practice, she would have lost her footing as the Grand Master slumped.

Robin was covered in cold sweat and drying blood. Cordelia gingerly sat him down and checked for his pulse and eyes. The beat was faint, painfully slow too. His eyes were half-open, but they weren't focusing on anything. Weren't, or unable to. They did flicker towards her the moment she touched his burning cheek, but he could maintain that much energy only for a passing second, then they were closing.

Quickly she ran to the Pegasus' side and unpacked the content of the saddlebags which had been loaded by Olivia. Bandages, clean linen wraps, and several flasks of concoction... Where was—? Ah. Found it. A small knife which she had secured from the dining hall. She poured half a flask of concoction to the blade, then used it to meticulously peel the tattered rags that were sticking to Robin's flesh like a second skin. It proved to be a daunting task: the cotton had been stubbornly glued to his flesh, so that when she cut and pulled, it came away with a soft crackling of dried and fresh blood alike from untreated injuries that were criss-crossing his torso and arms.

Cordelia had seen many wounds and injuries during her years of service, but they had all been combat wounds. If there were anything about wounds acquired during combat, they were often decisive. A stab made by a spear, a cut made by a sword of knife, a burn caused by magic. Tonight's case was different. Before her was a man who had been a subject of equipments which variety she was not familiar of. They certainly were not the product of swords, or spears, or arrows. Much, much tinier weapons, she supposed, but by any means no less deadlier. Later, she would suspect the use of heated knives, needles, and the likes, but for now, her focus was held by the open wounds.

* * *

\- A -

* * *

He did not remember landing. He did not remember which way they had taken once they had gone past the walls of Steiger. The first thing he realized, however, was the comfort offered by the steady ground beneath him. After a rough journey of swaying, dipping, and lurching in a non-existent trek that was the air, to be able to lie on a solid and unmoving surface was heartening.

He opened his eyes and blackness finally gave way to velvety sky marred with hundreds of dots that were the stars. Blurred shapes slowly took rigid form of jagged cliffs and rocks that towered high around him. Slowly, his senses were returning, and in the absence of pain which had been haunting him, the world finally made sense again. A quiet sound of flowing water. Gentle breeze of the night. Earthly scents that were calming. Refreshing. So different from the damp and reeky dungeon where he had spent hours upon hours.

"You've woken."

A figure came into view. Of flowing red hair and dark crimson eyes.

They had made it then.

They had escaped Fort Steiger alive. She had figured out the riddle and played her role.

Had the Sheperds made it, though? Had they won the siege?

Robin tried to move, but realized a little bit too late that it was a mistake. He was immediately stung by a repulsive pain that centered around his waist and right arm, and he sagged back to a saddlebag that pillowed his head. "Be still," Cordelia told him. She sat down beside him. Something cool touched his arm. A salve? He could not have known. But whatever it was, it did a splendid job of relieving his dry skin of pain as well as soothing the burns.

"Let it be for the night; do not scratch it," she warned when he felt a tingling sensation whereupon the wind caressed his skin.

Robin turned his gaze upon her. She suffered no apparent injuries. The blood that coated her leather armor seemed to be not of hers either. Whether it was his own or an enemy's, he did not know.

He must have let his gaze lingered, for she diverted her attention from his arm to his eyes. The shadow cast by her hair made it hard to grasp the color of emotions clouding her scarlet orbs, but it did not diminish what he'd best interpret as cool anger from being reflected on them. It was new. Indecision and restlessness he often glimpsed, in addition to raw displeasure. She'd worn her emotions and thoughts under layered cloaks of blankness and politeness. This time, it hung plainly on her eyes.

"I thought you'd ask," he said.

"I thought I would," she returned, her even tone as cool and sharp as a polished blade. She dropped her gaze to his right arm, to the slithering lines and symbols of runes and old Ylissean words of magic carved by black ink.

Robin had expected more, but only silence loomed. Observations and speculations would benefit neither of them at this moment. He had moved all pieces on the board accordingly. His task had been done. And now, he would pay the price.

"I have no more reason to bind you from doing as you like," he said, closing his eyes momentarily as weariness crept over him. It was heavy, and unlike the blanket that covered his torso, it came with a certain coldness that seeped into his bones. "If I hold answers to your questions, I will not refrain myself from speaking."

"One question, then." The eyes that regarded him were now dark, dimmed by hurt and everything else that she may have had tried to conceal for the past couples of days. "What is it that you're chasing after?"

The answer came to him as easily as it was to breathe. It used to lie behind barred steel doors within the rooms that were his murky memories. It was no more once he'd started to scour the area with a torch named desperation. "Ylisse's victory. Nothing else. Nothing more."

A forced smile—mirthless, dejected—curved her lips. "Some people may accept that as it is, but I'm tired of your games, Grand Master. Ylisse is nothing but a foreign land to you, is it not? A place you woke up in with no recollection of your past."

Her words fell on him like lashes. How did she—? Realization came late. "You listened." Of the conversation he'd shared with Pheros in the darkness of the dungeon.

"You thought of dying."

"What mortals have never?"

A misstep. He heard a rebuke in his own voice. Cordelia had taken a strong foothold in letting his own cynicism hang on the air for him to reassess. She saw the fractions of truth within it, and gods, he knew Cordelia was no fool. She had possibly even foreseen his reply. Robin cleansed his lungs with a deep breath. "The plan was made clear to you. Miriel and Olivia had played their parts and you've pieced it together." An amend. A detour. How he hoped it would suffice, though he himself scarcely believed that it would. "I would not assign you, or anyone, to any mission if I had not the faith that they would accomplish it."

"And yet you did think of the possibilities of failure." There was firmness latched with accusation in her voice, and eventhough he had braced himself for it, they cut through his thin defenses as would a heated knife through cheese. "You did think of death."

Defeat hammered on his chest like a badgering knock of a beggar, and it awoke a new wave of bitterness. "Yes." He had, back in Ylisstol, within the confines of the walls of his room. He had pondered about the possibility of his own doom at the hands of the Valmese. He had again, at Fort Steiger, where the thought became more recurrent under the pressure of solace, starvation, and pain.

"You care not if the chains of duty break you."

For _her _dreams, for _her _vision, he did not. They were his bind to this world; they gave him a purpose, a reason to stay, a cause worth fighting and dying for.

"You care not if they break those around you either."

Robin glanced up and saw that her eyes were like shattered glass. It caught him off guard, the vulnerability that she openly wore. "I—"

"I could have failed. I could have been late." Her voice shook, thick with emotions. "You would have me cheat the gods and fate once again, even after knowing everything that had happened on the borders to my knight sisters. You knew, and yet you would have me carry the burden and let it choke and shackle me nonetheless."

A lone tear escaped from one corner of her eye. She made no move to wipe it away—made no indication that she was aware of it nor did she care even if she was. "Strip me off my dignity and what is left of me as you will... I'll say this once and again: you are terribly selfish, you know that?"

He would follow Emmeryn's echoing steps into the abyss below that cliff. He would drag those whose lives were tied to him into it as well. "What happened to Lady Phila and the Pegasus Knights—"

"—was my punishment," she cut in. On her lap, fingers balled into fists. "My burden to bear, for as long as I live. My mark of failure. They gave their lives to the nation they believed in. They entrusted their dreams to the youngest recruit in their ranks. And you would repeat their mistake."

"Their sacrifice was not a mistake." No. The late Exalt's would not be either. Even so, he said the words not with conviction.

"And how do you know that?"

"I don't. But I want to believe in it. I want to accept it as truth."

* * *

\- A -

* * *

For a moment, the one thing that stood between them was an unbridgeable chasm of stark differences that were too many to be numbered. It resulted in a period of silence that was accompanied only by whispering winds that wafted through the ragged surface of the land. It dragged unspoken words and tension between them to a new height, and all Cordelia could do was to stare at the white-haired man that was lying before her.

The moon that hung overhead was full, but its light never quite reached Robin's blue eyes as they saw past everything in the current moment, tricking time and slipping into the past. "If one looks at it, a sacrifice is just another death accepted. Another name to carve onto a slab of tombstone. It has no meaning should one choose to regard it as such. Dreams, hopes...they are naught but words or whispers of an empty prayer." The dark blue of those orbs shimmered as would a pair of azure marbles under the faintest touch of light. "I wish to cherish them. To make them a reality."

_For what end? _she wanted to ask. Her heart, however, already knew the answer. She knew the longing he felt all too well. She was familiar with that sentiment that had been plaguing him—that one feeling that she'd associated with agony. "To live for others' dreams is nothing but a foolish pursuit." She had run the same path. She knew what lies at the end of the line.

"Be it as it may, a purpose defined is better than a purpose doubted. It is as you've said: Ylisse is no homeland of mine. But there were people who made it like one for me."

Jealousy was not a foreign thing to her. Yet its stab brought about a fresh wound all the same.

"If I could just repay them, I thought... If only I could just return the favor, however small..." Robin closed his eyes and shook his head. "A senseless aspiration. Nobody can reach into the realm of the dead. A fool I was, a fool I am still, you'd agree."

Not as much as she was, he would agree.

Cordelia threw her glance away, to the steady stream of cold water, to the barren land bereft of trees, to anything but those blue eyes that reflected her image. The world around them stood, its wholeness bearing down on her, impaling guilt borne of what could not be and what could have been into her heart.

"Your commander and sisters did not make a mistake. Unless you'd believe that they had."

"I fear..." She began. She stopped herself, for the words suddenly felt like a lump in her throat. The emotions surfed out of their locked cells once again, and through the tears, the world became a hazy blur.

"You fear that you would believe it," he read her thoughts aloud. The words spoken were soft, tinged with something akin to that of empathy.

"Yes."

She had always feared that she would be the end to her sisters' legacy, the calamity that would tarnish their history. After all, it just needed one mistake, one error to ruin everything they had given their lives for. To prevent that, she had taken it upon herself to load her bag with responsibilities. They were necessary, she had reasoned. They were a reminder of what she had become and what she would be. It was a fate sealed by her sisters in arms' demise.

The funny thing was, had everything been different, Phila would have named her the next commander, some had told her. She had not believed it, had bitterly smiled at the notion when she had first heard it. But when the title had indeed fallen onto her shoulders, she had accepted it with her head bowed down. She, who had abandoned her post to evade the claim of Death... What was it that the Ylissean royals saw in her? Surely not honor, for she could never fathom how the word 'honorable' could be applicable to what she had done.

"_If it's you…" _Olivia's voice, along with the many voices of Pegasus knights of her old squad, whispered at the back of her mind. "_If it's you...then we may have hope. Fly now. Do not look back. Fly, and remember our love for the halidom._"

"There are too many reasons…" she started, then paused, not trusting the steadiness of her voice. A vision came to her: of an empty sky, the one she'd flown into, as cries of a losing battle and screams of pain woke the dawn. The winds around them shifted and now it was the medicinal scent of ointment she had applied on his flesh that she was smelling. Instinctively, she drew her her knees close to her aching heart. A thought of hope, small and flickering like a candle in a windy yard: that the world would forget her, would pass her by if she managed to make herself small enough to escape its sight. "I should have stayed. I should have dismissed their request."

"And more would have died," Robin said. "Your Lord, his sister, the Shepherds."

Regret beat in tandem with her heart. It dissolved into raw frustration that threatened to spill. She chose muteness. There was nothing to say. Nothing sensible, at the very least.

"We fear the same thing. I suspect the fear of failure is something that most living beings share. But fears only exist in the realm of our thoughts. They have no power to crossover and manifest themselves into living things without the permission of their creator."

"Yet you do feel it. Even thought about its claim on your life."

"I won't refute it." A wistful look colored his expression, telling her that he may have wished upon it, perhaps as a means to satisfy his heart's yearning to meet again with that one person whose dreams he embodied. "What I didn't do was letting it step outside the boundaries of imagination."

The past should stay in the past. She knew. She understood that. But to accept the truth for what it was...? She wasn't sure if she could shoulder the massive burden the notion entailed.

"Don't you think that acknowledging those fears is humane? Stupid as it is, I'd like to think that they are part of something... Something greater than most imagine. Something that perhaps also shared by the things we know as joy, hope, or dreams, that makes people who they are. No book in the royal library of Ylisstol has ever depicted what that something is. Speculations have always been roused, but nobody has ever drawn the connecting line."

"If that is so, then such a thing will remain a theory. Unproven and untested."

"True, My Lady. But also untrue." There was no sliver of mockery in the Grand Master's tone that she had been so adept in picking up. "It means you and I may draw whatever conclusion as we please. We... You have survived thus far. Isn't that a proof enough that there is a reason greater than your grief?"

A reason? To serve…?

Robin smiled as if her thoughts were bare for him to see. "Not for others, no."

"You've found yours, then?" A feeble attempt in turning the table. She was merely dodging his question, and a person half tactful as the Grand Master could surely see what a pathetic attempt that was. But Robin didn't comment on it and answered her question.

"I want to live. Even if I thought of death and often lose the sight of what truly is important... Well. I'm sure there will be people to punch some sense into me whenever that happens."

Cordelia stared at the man for the longest time before sighing in disbelief. "That is the main point of your strategies, isn't it? Leverage?"

One end of Robin's mouth twitched upward. "I _am_ selfish, just as you said." He turned to look at her, and for the first time, she felt that he truly was looking at her—not at the shadows of whatever memories that were haunting them both, or at the reflection of his own person—but her. Just her, as a person. As broken as she was. "I think you should be too."

* * *

\- x x x -

* * *

_**A/N: **__Thank you again for all of your support and attention. It never ceases to amaze me that there are so many nice people out there who look past my flaws as a writer and zoom into the quality traits of my writing that even I do not see. Reading past all my chapters after a one-year-hiatus, I am still dumbstruck by how tolerant you readers/reviewers have been with my errors and shortcomings. _

_Given that this chapter is a rather short one, I'm afraid mentioning you all one by one would make the A/N the chapter... :') Just please do know that I really appreciate your reviews, feedbacks, and comments. Thank you so much for any corrections (for I am a typo queen, and no, I don't often proofread my own stuff before uploading it), and warm greetings._

_**Additional Note:**__ There will only be a few chapters left, with an Epilogue and a Bonus Chapter. _


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**Return**

* * *

Some said that victory tasted sweet. As sweet as a cold summerwine, a veteran amongst the ranks of his knights used to say. It paid off all the struggles, a trophy of proof to all the doubts that might have plagued a soldier's heart before the battle. In his childhood, Chrom had wondered how true that saying was. He had religiously held on to one hope that he would know for himself once he was old enough to swing a sword made of steel. Victories over unmoving dummies and sparring partners had always failed to enthrall. And doesn't every boy who was learning swordplay dream of a victory over mighty enemies? Of loud cheers over defeated foes?

Then one day had come, a day of his very first victory, when he had secured Ylisse's future from the prying eyes and schemes of Gangrel. It had not tasted sweet as the old knight claimed to be. For the loss he and the halidom had to suffer as the price had been too great: the Exalt herself had given her life for her people.

Now another day had been granted, a day where his army had obliterated a renowned fort in a foreign land. If there was something one would call achievement, certainly he could call this one just that. But as things were, this one victory tasted more like unripe apples than any sweet wine or tincture he had come across.

They had succesfully breached the solid walls of Fort Steiger and wiped out the Valmese guarding it, that much was true. But some rotten luck had seen it that a swine named Excellus had escaped and was nowhere to be found. It sickened him. Not just the tactician's zero sum of honor, but also the notion that such a sly enemy was still roaming free. Add to that the fact that they were still in a land of the enemy. As good as it was to have Say'ri as a local guide, the unfamiliarity nailed a feeling of uncertainty that he found it hard to shed his armor after the siege had been won.

So, within the hours after Fort Steiger had been conquered, all Chrom could do besides listening to Frederick's report was digging his nails into his palms as he pretended to be calm. An onerous task, to stand still with his sword sheathed while all his nerves were screaming for him to act, to _do something_. He would have pounced and walked the length of what had been Fort Steiger's war room had nobody been around. And it didn't help that the news he was most concerned had not been brought by the scouts.

News of Basilio, who had gone to stall Walhart and his men, had been so minimal he swore he would fly on a wyvern to do the intel-gathering himself if the situation allowed. The Khan's skirmishes had proven to be succesful, as reports stated that a great deal of Walhart's northen vanguards had retreated a step back out of their posts, but he was yet to face the emperor himself. Lucina's warning, which Basilio had dismissed as one would a superstitious tale of an old nanny, was now ringing like an alarm bell in his head. _Good Naga, let him be safe. Let him return to us unharmed._ Men and gods above knew how valuable of an ally Basilio was, a dear friend and a dependable supporter too. To lose him would be dispiriting indeed.

"...And that concludes everything, Milord," Frederick was saying.

"Thank you," Chrom muttered, his glance returning to the large window, to the sky splothced by myriads of colors of the dawn. How many hours had it been since the battle now? Seven? Eight? He'd lost count.

"Shall I take it upon myself to recite everything? I believe that you've tuned me out from the moment I spoke."

With an effort, he fixed his expression and chased away somber thoughts that were clouding his mind. "Huh? Oh, no, don't bother. Just...what news of our brothers and sisters again?"

"No casualties, Milord. There are some injured Shepherds being treated as we speak, but none so critical that they might depart to the afterlife just yet. Lady Say'ri's brother, however, is reported to be closing in from the south."

Ah... Damnation. Yen'fay. Say'ri had warned them about him. A mighty warrior, the rumors said, a tough and persistent opponent who certainly had the wits and guts to act so quickly after his allies had fallen.

"I believe there is naught but a little chance for the fort to be defended as it is, Milord," Frederick said as he glanced up at the broken walls and gates that once had boasted a solid defense. "We could try to make a do, to stand our ground here, or we could escape the enemy by going east."

"East is not an option. If we are to retake the harbor now while Yen'fay's forces are tailing our backs, we would only be in a more dire situation. Has there been no news of Robin, by the way?"

"I did tell you mere minutes ago that he and Lady Cordelia were last sighted flying out of the fort, heading southeast."

To a vast range of rocky plains and mountains that separated Valm central region and the southern part. Clever. Had they stayed, there was no telling what would have become of them. Cordelia was a capable knight on her own, but fighting a horde of enemies alone at the heart of their stronghold would have been a death warrant. If they had flown off the fort and managed to avoid detection, then they should be safe.

'Should be.' Gods, how he hated the words. Any probabilities of his friend being in danger instilled yet another worry—a worry bigger than he had for Yen'fay and his approaching men. He knew he was not the worrying type, which was why he had appointed Robin the Grand Master of Ylisse in the first place, but as the circumstances had it, he couldn't help but be concerned over Robin's safety. If the notion of losing Basilio had he likened to the loss of a finger, then losing Robin would be equal to the loss of one arm.

"Chrom!" The double doors burst open, allowing a panting Stahl in. "Come outside. To the courtyard."

"Enemies?"

Stahl shook his head, opened his mouth to explain, but hastily swallowed whatever words he was about to say. "Just come," he curtly said.

Stahl walked briskly out of the room with Chrom and Frederick hastening behind him. Outside, the air was chilly and moist as a thin layer of fog had blanketed the fief. Dead bodies of slain Valmese soldiers had been evacuated off the area, but damaged structures and half-burnt stables still managed to paint a desolate picture of the lawn.

Stahl stopped suddenly and Frederick almost crashed into him. He pointed a finger up at the sky. "There."

The morning fog made it hard for Chrom to see, but then he thought he saw a flicker of movement up in the air, just slightly above the broken wall. It was hovering and making circles in delibration, and at that Frederick said, "Is that a rider? Should I get the archers, Milord?"

"Wait." Chrom craned his neck and squinted to see better. Its movement was strange, he decided, not to mention that the altitude was a bit too low for a scout and too high for an assaulter. Then it him, as abrupt as a flash of lightning in a clear sky. "Get our flag, and quick."

Stahl ran back into the building and came out with a white flag painted with the mark of Naga. He splayed it wide on the grass with the help of Frederick.

Upon the act, the winged figure on the sky slowly descended, and through the thinning stratum of brume, Chrom could make out the distinct wings of a Pegasus. A rush of anticipation flooded his veins the moment he saw the riders who were atop the winged beast's back. _Holy Naga..._ Frederick muttered some disbelieving words of his own, and that was when Chrom knew that he was not hallucinating. The rider who sat on the front was the easiest to identify, the crimson hair that was perhaps as long as her person belonging to so few of a woman. The one who was seated behind her looked like a heap of brown from afar, and it took the Pegasus several feet lower for Chrom to see that the silver-haired man was draped in what seemed to be a blanket.

As the Pegasus softly landed on the ground, Chrom ran to its side. "Damn it, Rob—!" He caught Robin who tried, and failed to dismount from the Pegasus smoothly, preventing what would have been a head-dive.

Robin winced at the firm grip on his arm and shoulder, and instinctively Chrom loosened his hold. "You're wounded." It was not a question. Beneath the soggy blanket, he had a feeling there were marks left by the enemy that he would loath to see. He had heard the details of the prisoner exchange from Libra, and he was right in fearing for his friend's life while he had been in captivity. Excellus and damnation. He swore he would slit the worm's throat open the moment Naga blessed him with an encounter.

Robin gave a wan smile. "A 'hello' would be nice, you know."

"'Hello' my foot—you're burning!" His flesh felt like fire, though the hands exposed were cold. His silver hair had, if possible, turned a shade lighter with frost from the heights

Cordelia got off from the Pegasus and bowed. "I'm terribly sorry, Lord Prince. I tried whatever I could, but it would do him best if he were brought to a healer immediately. First-aid medication could only do so much to stitch all the wounds closed."

Chrom and Frederick supported Robin as they hastily made for an empty room on the east wing that was nearest to the yard, while Stahl ran into another part of the fort, possibly to get a cleric or two.

Robin was lain in the only bed the room provided, and as Chrom unwrapped the blanket around him, he saw what Cordelia meant. There were healing scars and wounds all over his torso, but the most dire of all was a deep gash to his side that had already colored the bandage that swathed it in the color of dark red. The journey they'd traversed to the fort must have reopened the wound.

Stahl returned with Libra and Maribelle in tow, both were equipped with their staffs, a bowl of steaming water, tubes containing liquid of greenish color, and towels. "Excuse us," Maribelle said, pushing Chrom and Frederick aside to attend to her patient.

Libra slowly undressed the bandages over the wound, and the crease between his brows deepened. Chrom shifted his weight to one foot. "How is he?"

"The wound is deep," Libra was saying. His hands were methodically working with the towels and potions, while Maribelle was softly chanting beside him. "We should thank Naga above that it has not festered, and thank you for your timely and astute care." The last words were directed at Cordelia, who was staring mutely. "And you, My Lady? Are you unhurt?"

Startled as if not realizing that she was being spoken to, Cordelia hastily replied, "Ah—I... I am well. Please...just tend to him first."

"When did he start burning up?" asked Maribelle.

"Hours before dawn. Concoction seems to have no effect on it."

Maribelle muttered 'Of course it does not' under her breath before switching to a language of the ancient. The staff's glow brightened, its silver light illuminating the room and casting long shadows at the walls.

"Will he—"

Whatever Chrom was going to say was cut by Libra, who noticed his restlessness and gently motioned with his head to the dry towels that were yet to be used. "He'd be fine sooner if you would kindly help us dipping them to the water and fetch a fresh bowl." It was a task he would gladly do, if only to stifle the urge to slam his fists to a nearest wall, repeatedly. Chrom knelt beside Libra, forcing all his thoughts to focus on the vapid task of wetting towels and wringing them. Frederick made himself useful in going out to do the monk's other bidding.

Several rushed footsteps were closing in, and soon, heads in the room multiplied. Gaius and Lon'qu were the first ones to arrive, followed by Olivia, and a chorus of questions.

"Hey, is he allright?"

"Gods—is he going to be okay?"

"Rob!" Lissa came last. She had made a step to near the bed, but retreated back at the stern gaze that Maribelle threw.

"Whoever has not priorities here, please do leave the room." The indignant healer in Libra surged to the forefront. The look on his eyes that he rarely wore told them that even emperors and queens should adhere to the clerics in the presence of the wounded and hurt.

"'Tis not a circus begging for onlookers," Maribelle added when nobody moved.

"I'm sorry, Rob," Lissa said, sobs beginning to rack her thin body. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

In the end it took Stahl to usher Lissa out of the room, and Chrom did not know if the strength he used to overdid the towels free of dripping water was borne out of anger or agitation or both.

When Libra began to dab Robin's wound with a towel smudged with medicinal liquid, Robin stirred and gritted his teeth. Maribelle put her hand above his and said, "Bear on it for a moment. You've done a marvelous job inventing all sorts of trickeries. Trick yourself now, will you?"

Something that resembled a smile pulled one end of Robin's mouth upward. It ended more like a grimace than anything else. "My apologies... I'm afraid tricks don't do well in deceiving the the inventor."

Libra heaved a satisfied sigh. Color had begun to return to Robin's face. That in itself Chrom counted as a leap forward, for the man had been as pale as a Risen moments ago. Carefully Libra dripped down some droplets of potion into Robin's mouth.

"Basilio..." Robin slurred, "What news of him?"

"Nothing so far," Chrom said. "But a war council could wait until you're well enough to be up and about."

Robin turned to look at Maribelle, who shook her head firmly although beginnings of a smile were already playing on her lips. "I'm sorry, dear Grand Master, but I'm afraid me and Libra make the calls here. You will rest abed until your fever is gone."

Chrom shrugged. "You heard the Lady."

Robin seemed to be up for some retaliation, weak as he was, but it died in the face of Maribelle's cocked eyebrow and Libra's unrelenting gaze. He sighed in defeat. Then before his eyes were closing, they moved and lingered at the back of the room, at Lucina, who apparently had sneaked in unnoticed and remained silent throughout proceeding. "A new Shepherd...?"

It was Chrom's turn to expel a breath of his own. Yes, right... A war council may wait, but there certainly were stories to be told and a long explanation to be made.

* * *

\- A -

* * *

After Lissa had been led out, Cordelia saw it necessary for her to leave the room after the Princess. Her heart was beating in a cold rhtym, singing a toneless melody of uncertainty entwined with guilt. She leaned against the wall beside the door, clutching one arm, and trying to still her thoughts. The sound of Lissa's sobs almost undid her, and she would have stepped up to bear the burden if not for Robin's look of warning that he'd passed her before succumbing to fatigue.

A hand touched her shoulder, and she turned to see a pair of brown eyes. "Sumia..."

"I've heard," was all she said, and for a moment, Cordelia could not decide whether to feel mortified at her past mistakes or terrified at what was going to happen. She had prayed that her nightmare would not become reality. Defying her fears, however, Sumia pulled her close. "I'm thankful you came back to us alive. I wouldn't know what to do if I were to lose more sisters I hold dear."

It had not been her squad that Sumia lost that day, but she had mourned with her all the same. Cordelia could remember how her friend had been adamant in keeping her company during the dark hours after the plight, and how grateful she had been for the assurance of Sumia's solid presence and compassionate spirit.

"Forgive me," she could only whisper, for there were no other words that she could draw out.

Sumia drew back and looked into Cordelia's eyes. She saw no judgment there; only concern. "There's nothing to forgive. You gave all your best. You returned to us, and that's what's important."

"But the Grand Master—"

"Rob's asleep, and ought to wake in a few hours in a better condition." It was Chrom who answered as he came out of the room with bloodied towels resting on the crook of his arm.

Cordelia lowered her head and cast her gaze to the ground, not daring to meet the dark blue eyes of the Prince. "My Lord. I have yet to answer to you. I shall bear full responsibility of what has happened."

"That is to be expected," was his reply, and no matter how Cordelia had armored her heart and mind for this very moment, the words pierced deep.

"Chrom—!"

The Prince held out a hand at his wife, then continued, "I will have to admit that Lissa had a partake in everything. But it was your duty to see that she remained safe and well."

A duty she'd failed. She would acknowledge that much and add more stones to the laden.

"You brought Rob back."

That abrupt statement made her sharply look up. She saw a trace of emotion on Chrom's face, though what that was exactly she couldn't say. "That alone earns you more than a second chance."

"But I—"

"Your error is grand. I am not making any less of it. But grander still is the sacrifice you made for the halidom to mend it. I would be a disgrace to my Exalted sister's name not to at least see it." He looked at Sumia, who nodded, then back at Cordelia. "Kneel, Lady Cordelia."

The world suddenly felt alien to her, the words unreal. It was Sumia's gentle tug that pulled her down to her knee.

Chrom unsheathed Falchion with one hand and let the tip of the legendary sword touch her shoulder. His voice, although spoken in a firm tone, was subdued by the tide of feelings and emotions that rose within her. She recited the words of oath, and bowed her head deep in gratitude as she rose, a knight of Ylisse once again.

* * *

\- A -

* * *

How long he had slept he didn't know, but upon creaking his eyes open, Robin was utterly grateful for the stirrings of Maribelle's magic that had worked wonderfully in subduing the constant pain around his waist. Water and soup sluiced down into his belly, washing away the bitter taste of medicine and cold, emergency rations he had been consuming since his escape from the dungeon. His throat still hurt, making the act of drinking and eating quite a task, but he was fortunate enough that his supper hadn't forced their way out.

He laid his empty bowl on the desk beside his bed, and stared at the two blue-haired royals in front of him. Now this was something harder than the task of processing magic formulas. "Tell me again that I'm not dreaming or I haven't died," he said, trying and failing to comprehend the logic behind Lucina's explanation that had greeted him first thing after he'd gained some semblance of strength and awareness. "...Or that Libra hasn't overdosed me with his sleeping potion."

Lucina smiled, and he thought he saw Sumia there. "Everything is just as I have explained, Sir Robin. Me and several survivors who had made it out alive in the future were sent back by Naga to change the course of history. We were separated upon coming here, as some had managed to slip through the portal faster than the rest."

"No, not the portal thing," Robin said, grasping a jug of water and dried its content. "The...changing course of history thing."

"Ah. You mean the time travel we went through."

_Yes, that, and more_, Robin thought, but kept silent, allowing Lucina to elaborate further on the subject.

"It was Naga's decision to bring us back to the past. It was a desparate attempt, you might say, to prevent Grima to do as he pleases," she said, her face darkening at the mention of the god of destruction's name. Robin had never been one to believe in any religions or myths. He had respected them, viewed them necessary in keeping order and balance, and had never questioned their validity more than he was obliged. Oblivious to the frown settling between his eyebrows, Lucina continued. "Naga herself revealed to us and guided us in the future whence we came. But her countenance and our efforts could not stop the fell dragon."

"Which reminds me..." He looked at Chrom, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his face scrunched, eyes boring holes to the floor. "You did mention something about meeting a man who has knowledge of this Grima."

"Yes..."

"Well, what do you think of him?"

Those eyes hardened, and Robin could see the indecision that was playing on his friend's visage. "Not quite well. No. It's more like I don't know what to make up of him. Or of his tactician, in that regards."

"What kind of person is he?"

At the question, those conflicted dark blue orbs trailed to meet Robin's own. "You," he said. "He looks and sounds exactly like you."

Robin had to choose between a vast range of responses that started with some sarcastic paraphrasing and ended with a flat denial. "I'm sure overly similar people do exist," was what he settled for. It was a neutral kind of answer that belittled a feeling of unease that was creeping into his mind, a feeling which he couldn't quite abash, nor could he understand where it originated.

"Yes... That's what I want to believe as well." Chrom sounded not convinced even by his own words, but Robin chose not to probe.

Instead he turned his attention at Lucina. "So, tell me more about this quest of yours. I remember you as a masked warrior who had shown up to prevent an assassination attempt that had the late Exalt as its target."

"I have been doing what I thought was best. Grima's first step in conquering the world will be to toss it into a state of disorder, and that was what I tried to prevent."

"An admirable feat, considering now Ylisse has found itself a capable ruler."

"Sir Robin, I understand your doubts very well," she said, and Robin was impressed by the even tone of the young woman's voice. He didn't meet people who handled his prompts and subtle sarcasm all that often. "But please do believe that we have a real battle and a cause to fight for, and that Ylisse—no, the world—needs as many believers as possible to stand against Grima."

"This…cause of yours…" Robin paused to sort his thoughts for a moment before continuing. "It certainly seems noble, and believable now that I see the Falchion on your hip." For no other sword of its caliber had even been forged, he knew. He knew tidbits of the sword's origin, from literature as well as Chrom's tale, and given the high quality materials and magic that pulsed within it, he doubted such a weapon could ever be copied or reforged. Not by humans, at least. "Pray, tell me then, why is it that she intervened in our time? If my conjecture is right, there should be many passages, many possibilities in which she could have chosen. Why is it that she chose this specific time—this...reality or whatever term it is that might fit—to send you into?"

There were words dancing in Lucina's eyes as she stayed silent for a moment. "Naga chose a time she thought would be best," she finally said. "There are so many alternatives to our beginnings and ends. Which would work out for each and everyone of us is a mystery. We can only give our all with the task and fate we've been granted."

"So there _was _something that she did not tell you. She saw something, knew something, that she did not share with you when she sent you here."

"That's..." She shook her head. "I was... I _am _in no position to inquire her decision. My vow was to prevent my future from becoming reality in this world. That is my sole purpose of being here."

Perhaps she sensed Robin's distrust, perhaps his speculative words had caused her discomfort... At his lack of reply, Lucina tactfully chose to bow politely and excuse herself out of the room. Robin waited until the door was closed behind her, then said to her father, "Some warrior-lady she becomes." He paused, rethinking his choice of words. "Became. Would become. Pardon my confusion. I've never dealt with people from a different timeline."

Chrom shrugged. "You can say that again. Even I'm not sure what the words future, past, and present mean anymore."

"Coming from the future to change history… I wonder how much does it cost to commission a god."

"Not even praying all year long in the temple of Naga would pay, I daresay. When the gods decide to do something, they do it. 'We mortals are but their instruments,' my tutor used to say."

"Could we please talk about something not related to Naga and her kin? My brain's been sizzling since I heard your daughter speak."

"She meant well. I may only know her for a short while, but I get a feeling that she is incapable of lying."

"I know that much," Robin softly snorted. "She is your daughter, after all. It's not that I don't trust her... I just find it hard to accept the reasons and tales of Naga she upholds."

"You're not the first to be baffled. But if not her, believe in me, would you? I know we still have the Emperor to face, but something tells me that there is so much more to this unrest that we are not presently aware of. Lucina and her friends might hold a key to that."

"Yes," Robin huffed a breath. "Yes, yes, yes... Can we let this conversation drop, _please_?"

"Shall we discuss the weather then? Or would you be more interested to hear about the growth of Sumia's Pegasus ranch?"

Robin shared Chrom's grin, and it was good, he supposed, the sense of familiarity, the feeling of being in the here and now, understood and trusted. He feared that he had forgotten it, and along with it, his sense of self.

Chrom unfolded his arms. "Seriously though... Promise me not to ever do things like that again."

"Whichever do you mean? Doubting the gods or questioning your daughter?"

"Carrying out suicidal plans while keeping all the details to yourself. That damned swine could have done so much worse than this. We're lucky that you can still speak and walk."

"And think. I was worried that I'd come back forgetting Ylissean and drawing flowers on the walls."

When Chrom didn't respond, Robin sighed. "I get it, I get it," he said. "I humbly apologize for all my wrongdoings, Lord Prince. May you find it in your heart to pardon this lowly subject of yours."

Chrom rolled his shoulders, to ease the stiffness away perhaps, or to stifle the restlessness that clearly showed on his visage. "You know, Rob... Tis' not the first time that I'm debating over myself whether I should punch you in the face or in the gut."

He mustered an innocent look as he stared back at his friend. "Face. Our healers spent hours working to fix the insides of my gut. Depreciating their work is not the wisest course of action. One does not escape unscratched from the combined fury of Lady Maribelle and Libra."

"Promise me."

"Alright," he said, giving in. "I promise. Happy now?"

"Yes." Chrom seemed to take it well. He unlatched himself from the wall, walked to the door, then paused, as if remembering something. "Oh. Your boy servant gave me these," he said, pulling out two worn journals from his belt pouch and giving them to Robin. "I would have deemed you insane for imagining scenarios and probable strategies to that length. I won't, since they did keep our heads secure when we crossed the sea."

"Good to hear that," he said, but his thoughts and eyes were solely focused on the smaller journal which patterend rope-knot that sealed it had not changed. Nobody had opened his letters to the deceased.

"That one. I figured that it must be personal, the book. Whenever I see you assigning locks and patterns to things, I know they mean something to you. I will leave you to rest now, friend."

The sound of the door closing echoed in the hollow of his heart.

* * *

\- x x x -

* * *

_**A/N: **csihawk, thank you so much for your support and review, you've been so sweet I wanna cry :') Cordelia is a strong character who is often potrayed in ambivalence in her support lines, so yes, I kinda wanted to delve into her insecurities. I'm really glad you found it well-written. | AstampedeofChickens, thank you for correcting me about that Henri typo...It was the same case when I was repeatedly typing 'Ovelia' instead of 'Olivia'... | Gallian Squad 7, I can't thank you enough for your support and thoghtfulness...! I will certainly finish this fic—I even took a vow ;( | drunkdragon, thanks a million for the sweet words and support! I seriously can't see why my writing could even be considered likeable, but thank you! | Spiner909, thank you so much! I severely missed writing and this fandom too :") I am a queen of typo, yes, so thank you again for the correction! Much needed and appreciated! | Milkoe777, thank you for your support! I can't imagine how annoyed readers must have been to see this fic stalling for a year... So thank you so much for supporting it after the hiatus. | pkmn2112, your review couldn't be any sweeter! It always delights me to read your analysis; I've gained many insights from you, so if thank you is enough, please do receive it. | Patient 0 Zero, shakesperean? I even had to google his work after you mentioned it... I certainly didn't realize my own style in writing... Thank you for the kind words! (And insight! I think I'm a fan of Hamlet now!) | Mon, I am so sorry for that! I am torn between TeamCordelia and TeamEmm too! I will definitely consider making a oneshot of Emm and Rob after BLAMED is done :) | 5SecondsLater, ahaha that's what I'm thinking too. Personality-wise, Robin and Severa would either be good friends or have a cat-and-dog relationship. | Hawking Owl, thank you, I'm so glad to see you again too! I'm glad you enjoyed my deviations! | Lucretiamars, I'm glad you take it like that... I was kinda insecure that their feelings might not show to readers... | Geledors1, I'm just glad this turned out okay and the talk didn't doze you to sleep. | EternalBrandish, I'm celebrating my muse's return too :') How many chapters exactly is detailed on the A/N here __ | herser zulle, I'm dying to write about them! But since it will confuse the pairing on the character features, I think I might do a separate one for Emm and Rob, perhaps a oneshot. | twntyninth, ahaha, yes she is a dear friend of mine. You know writers well. | R-Zoe, soooo true! They are the cheapest and the most effective medicine for me :') Thank you again! 9th Swordian, don't worry, I take babbling really well—I love it, in fact! I'm glad I could kick my muse alive too! Earthan, ahaha no spoiler, I guess, but I'm in for that too ;)_

_In the end, I can't thank you guys enough for reading, following/favoriting, and reviewing this fic. I honestly doubted my capabilities as a writer, but reading your comments and words of encouragement have lifted my spirits up. Again, I rarely, if ever, proofread my own works, so please pardon me for any errors you may find :') Ah... Only the ending, epilogue, and bonus chapter are left now..._


	16. Chapter 16

_I honestly did not know how to begin this entry. Words seemed to form and scramble away the moment I picked up a quill. It was as if the world around me was changing in a pace I could not follow, and everything that I was feeling had uncertainty latched on it. _

_That night... I felt like a tongue-tied novice learner confronted with a perplexing equation that defied understanding. The emotion that was reflected in those scarlet eyes was real. There was pain; regret. She hid them not. I as__k__ed a question to myself, then, wondered if I could be brave enough to step into the light as she had. To face my own fears, to own up to every mistake that I had made._

_I have dwelled within the confines of the past for so long that I have forgotten how it felt to live in the moment. _

_You have taught me the meaning of bravery. Yet I deluded myself in believing that I could follow the same path you had taken while enshrouding myself with lies. In my desperation I have clung onto a lost hope and a broken reflection of your ideals. _

_In that graveyard, I had searched for a name so I might offer my apologies. I found none. Was it the world's way of telling me that apologies to the deceased matter not? Or was it its way of showing me the path to redemption? _

_This will be my last entry—and my last promise to you. _

_I will hide no more. I will delve into the unknown to carve my own path. I may falter. I may lose courage and fail. But I will persist. For a future we both wished for._

* * *

**Chapter 16**

**Farewell**

* * *

For once the cold steel felt alien to her. Sturdy plate of metal that used to give her comfort and a sense of security had morphed into something else entirely, something she didn't quite know what to make of.

Sumia had brought her a set of new armor. It was one that was trimmed with gold; a design fitting for a knight belonging to higher rank. Cordelia had, of course, refused it, had stated the many reasons why she didn't even deserve the honor of wearing her old Pegasus Knight armor. But Sumia's persistence had won against all logical explanations Cordelia could think of. "_Whoever does not see the magnitude of your deeds might trip themselves to oblivion,_"the Queen had said with a stern look that promised retribution to any who dared to protest against her decision. She had told Cordelia to get some rest then.

Rest had been a quick wash to peel away the dirt and dust of rough travel and dried blood that was not hers. Rest had been lying on a empty bed and staring into a mute ceiling that bounced off conflicting thoughts that she threw at it. She had given up the prospect of sleeping midway, opting then to try on the new armor to see whether the size would fit. She would welcome any distraction or any menial activity with gratitude, but found too late that her choice of said activity was backfiring against her.

"_You have survived thus far_," he had said. "_Isn't that a proof enough that there is a reason greater than your grief?_"

The steel felt raw against her skin, and the fine piece of smithery suddenly felt two sizes too small on her body. Quickly she unstrapped the buckles and belts, letting the armor fall with a dull sound onto the carpeted floor.

She sighed as she sat on the edge of her bed. Fingers twisted in the thin cloth masquerading as a blanket. _What has become of me? _It was the same question she had asked the night after her escape from the border, and even then, she knew it was an empty question that was designed to torture rather than enlighten. Prior to all this chaos, she had been sure that the decision she had come to was the most fitting, that she would live for her sisters, that she would wield her spear for the halidom they had died to protect. Honor had no part in it. It was just all logic and responsibilities. She would give her life for Ylisse, just as Phila had. She was a legacy. It was expected of her to give everything she had for the sake of protecting the names of those who had passed before her.

Had not that been sufficient? Had she not made that decision for the sake of herself too—so that she would be able to bear the burden of living, so that the jagged pieces that was her heart could be mended by an ointment named purpose? Yet it had failed to heal, as time proved to her again and again that she had only been chasing wind.

She needed not a soul to tell her of her mistake. She knew how foolish she had been, understood well that the debate she had been having with herself stemmed from intrigued sense of self the Grand Master had remarked to be distorted. Curiously enough, anger hadn't been the soldier who marched up front when his words barreled through the thin barricade of pride. It was... No, she said to herself. Thoughts of speculative nature would have no end, and worse was thoughts of her own feelings that she was reluctant to fathom.

Getting up from the bunk, she peered out from the small window and saw that dawn was still a few hours away. The darkness of night that engulfed the fort was thick with suspense from the aftermath of a battle. The Shepherds would move at daybreak, and she feared that the numbness spreading over her mind and body would have consumed her before then lest she did something.

The long winded corridor and stone staircase that led to the first floor were hollow. As she moved by, her shadow danced in the light of the sconces, her footsteps all but a muffled rhythm. This would either be a trip to fool herself or to purchase the answer he had dangled in front of her the previous night. It could be either one or maybe both, she rectified. With a certain white-hair, anything was possible. But she had not the energy to care anymore. She would come to him armed with an apology and a question, and if he was half as intelligence as she thought he was, he would at least accept one.

She made a hesitant pause before the door to the Grand Master's room. It turned to be a pause well timed, for if she had advanced a step forward she would have crashed against the occupant who was ought to be recovering in his bed. Robin managed to stop in his tracks before a collision happened, his eyes widening at the presence of an unexpected visitor. "Is there something I can help you with?" he asked with one hand still dangling on the doorknob. He was carrying what seemed to be a journal in the other hand.

"Me aside, should you be up and move around so quickly?" she asked.

Robin's face was still looking quite a bit pale, but he gave no indication that he was still suffering from a high fever as he had when they'd come. "I feel a lot better after a thorough rest, courtesy of Libra's potion and Lady Maribelle's conjuration."

"Why do I feel that everything you say is an overstatement?"

He smiled, and the lack of mordancy made him look almost boyish. "Or the total opposite. You've read my cards." He let the door close behind him. "Did you come for urgent matters? If not, I'd like to take care of something first."

She blinked, then said, "No. I can wait until you're done with whatever you need to do."

Robin made a motion to walk away, then seemed to reconsider. "Why don't you come along with me? I should be done rather quickly, and you will be a lot of help should I fail to find my way back. I'm not familiar with the structure of this fort, after all."

"Fair offer." She walked beside him, and Robin led them into the grassy courtyard, past the remnants of the northern walls.

"You needn't be so guarded, My Lady," Robin said, glancing her way. "I'm not plotting anything devious." His tone was light, sounding almost amused.

Cordelia tucked strands of loose hair behind one ear to ease the tension within her. "Excuse me. But your ideas of pleasantries oft involve something dangerous and are of deceitful nature."

He actually laughed at that. She had to say that it quite transformed his face. There was no mischief gleam in those eyes as they crinkled, and in the semidarkness, she likened their color to the sea in the shy light of a half-moon. "Please do not tell that to anyone. Surprise is the key element of my strategies. I'd be unemployed without it."

It was oddly infectious, the laugh. She found herself smiling before realizing it. "It is good to know that I am in possession of something lethal to be used against you."

"Blackmail materials are rare and high-priced in a time like this. Holding one of your ally's, you may do better with it if you auction it." He brought a hand to his chin. "I am personally curious as to how much gold will my secret be worth."

Recalling the great length Excellus and Pheros had gone to have him on their employ, she'd assume that it was probably as high as a governing family member's. But she was not about to flatter him with that. "I could find out if you're dying to know," she sweetly offered. "I've been remembering contacts throughout the journey."

Robin feigned a wounded look. "Eager for revenge, are we?"

"Perhaps. It's a trick worth remembering if I ever run out of money."

"A scenario highly unlikely. Hasn't Chrom reinstated you as knight commander?"

The question made her feel doubly exposed in the absence of sturdy leather or steel, and she subconsciously clutched one arm over her front. "He has," was her curt answer.

He must have sensed her tentativeness to breach the subject, and she was glad when he dropped it without a word.

They arrived at the mouth of a thin forest, where shadows of mountain tops and cliffs that expanded northward outlined the scene. The clouds above had shredded and flown on the night wind, leaving only scattered trails across the face of a silver crescent. Robin led them to a battered vestige of a post. Despite having some of the wooden pillars burnt, the main construction made of stone still stood fast and strong. "This would do," Robin said, more to himself rather than to his companion, then scaled up a ladder which had somehow survived the battle of Steiger intact. Cordelia followed after him.

They came up to a platform about two stories high. Robin stood over the side that overlooked a clearing.

He flipped open the journal at random, and Cordelia saw handwriting that must have been his own scribbled on every dated page. The journal must have seen many uses, judging from the worn condition it was in. The leather bound was in a bad shape—it looked as if it had been mended several times, and the dark chocolate covers had their color fading as though the book had gotten wet on more than one occasion.

Robin traced one page with his fingers, the last one of the journal, where the black ink was still half-drying. Then he began to tear the pages, two or three at a time.

"Isn't that journal important to you?" she asked, eyes following the methodical motion of Robin's hand.

"It was," he acknowledged, and faintly, she could hear the emotion in his voice.

"It is no longer?"

A half-smile preceded his reply, and the mockery dripping from the gesture seemed to be directed at himself. "It would be a lie to say that it is of no value. For all the time I had spent here after they found me on that meadow, confusion was the only thing that was true within me. I thought I'd found my reason to stay. I thought I had the answer then. It was gone too soon, and I sought a replacement. _Borrowed _one."

Cordelia could see him in a place where she once had been, groping for answers, desperate for a purpose—for one true reason that might just end the suffering of not knowing where to go and what to do with the gods' mercy.

"Frederick told me that this was not my war to fight," Robin said. He had half the content ripped and tucked between his middle and ring fingers by now. "It certainly was not."

_But then things became personal_, she thought, divining his mind.

He paused and looked up at her, his expression carefully schooled, though she had somehow seen his mask of nonchalance fall off. "Surely you've heard of Lucina's tale?"

She nodded. Sumia had briefed her. She had been disbelieving then. But the resemblance the young woman had with her parents were something she couldn't refute, more so when Falchion testified for itself.

"Right, I thought her mad too," he chuckled. "But after listening to her, thought it unfair for Naga to pick one pass passage of time of her own choosing. I wonder if she could have prevented more calamities if she had chosen a different one… If, however absurd the notion, she had made that decision knowing fully who would die and who would live."

"You were pondering something outside of your capabilities, for the gods do things best not be grasped by human sense," she said, choosing her words with care.

"You did entertain the same questions."

Yes. More than once or twice. "And the experience told me then not to try anymore. Why's had their limits. Those limits drew the line that separated sanity from insanity."

His smile caught her off guard. There was something lurking in his eyes; it was warm, yet at the same time, bitter. "You're strong, My Lady."

Spontaneous denials were rolling off her tongue. "I'm n—"

—But Robin was quick to foresee them. "And you'd rebuff me, of course. Call me blind or deranged, but that's honestly how I see you."

"You would know," she said, looking away from those blue eyes—the eyes that as though saw past her exterior, "that I'm nothing like that." The ordeals and woes that had been chasing her day after day had left her in pieces.

"Yet you do not hide."

_I hide. _Behind her armor of excellence. Behind the dreams her sisters had left behind.

Robin heard her silent rebuttal. "You keep on fighting nonetheless. You stood your ground, even when knowing that you'd only be hurt. That...resilience," he said, and from the corner of her eye he caught white flames surging to life, "is a trait of yours I truly admire."

She looked then, at licking hot flames that danced through his fingers, at the torn pages that were now burning brightly. Robin raised his right hand with fire slurring along the black ink carved on his flesh, and tossed the pages to the air, sending them as would one do a flock of doves. They scattered into the wind, white flames turning bright gold as they consumed each ripped page. In their lazy fall, Cordelia thought of fireflies.

"I have always wondered if people are some byproduct of invisible strings of fate or destiny woven by the gods above," Robin said. In the light of his magic fire his already pale skin looked almost ashen, but the shade it threw to his hair made it look as if each strand was made of pure silver. "We have Lon'qu and Chrom for master swordsmen. Tharja is unparalleled when it comes to hexes, and so is Miriel in the field of research. I wouldn't stand a ground against Frederick or you if I were to pick up a spear, and Gaius had kindly made a point that I'd have my throat cut open sooner if I were to wield a dagger and play stealth with my meager agility. This," he flexed his hand, and fire of greenish color licked his fingers, alighting his eyes with tints of emerald, "is my best option."

The covers of the journal turned to ashes. As the flames died, darkness enveloped the place once again.

"Don't you think inventing is a business to shame the higher beings who sit on the stars? Not that I'm boasting of my successful experiment, since I'm positive sorcerers and priests will bash me for carving words and symbols of power the gods have bestowed onto my mortal flesh."

Cordelia was appalled by the sublime meaning of his words. "You wish to best the gods..."

"Not quite right; I simply wish to challenge the concept of fate."

Could it be challenged, though? Could it be altered? The notion was certainly alluring. "Is that the purpose of burning the book? To stand on equal footing with fate?"

"That is a very modest way of putting it. I have simply made a decision on my own. I have been walking in circles. Talking to you has made me realize that. I have been constrained, either by some reasoning borne of my twisted logic or by the childish desire to stay in one moment in time that has long passed." His smile suddenly turned conspiratory. "You thought me incapable of sensible self-assessment, didn't you?"

"I have never implied that," she said, more amazed by how he could turn from self-depreciation to humor in a heartbeat more than anything. She knew both from rumors and experience that the Grand Master had his way with words, but now that there were no daggers or secret purposes concealed behind them, she felt more vulnerable to him.

"Yes, you have. Once on the ship, and again when we landed." Robin's eyes crinkled. "I've heard of the many titles people have honored you with. 'Accomplished Pretender' is certainly not one of them."

The heat that was creeping up her face had nothing to do with the diminishing fire. Robin being Robin, took notice of it, and Cordelia had to resist the temptation to wipe off the growing smile on his face with her fist. "And now you're mad," he said, beginning to laugh. "I apologize. It wasn't my intention. Or maybe it was... I'm sorry."

"You are clearly not," she said, finding it strange that the heat that had bloomed was now suffusing into warmth that was sure to have discounted the effect of her glare.

"I am. It would be foolish of me to make enemies with a prominent figure under the same banner I stand for."

"And what makes you think you'll earn it?"

He threw up his hands. "Well... You aren't pointing a spear at me, so I suppose things could have been worse. Furthermore, if you had wanted revenge, you certainly wouldn't have gone through the trouble of keeping me secure atop the Pegasus' saddle."

She had feared for his life even before ride, but Cordelia chose to sidestep that and confront him with her question. "Tell me one thing," she said, and her low tone told Robin that she was not partaking in anymore jesting. "Why did you pick me for the task?"

"I have told you that you were the most suitable candidate at the time. You had the credentials to be accepted by the enemy; you had the most believable story that they would think twice to question."

"You had other reasons you're not telling me."

There was a moment of silence in which he simply stared at her, as though trying to gauge her mind. "You truly think that it was a mistake—your sisters in arms' decision?" he asked.

And it was a mistake, the question. Something within her snapped. "It's not like I want to think so!" She hated the crack in her voice, hated the all the emotions that she was feeling. "You saw me standing my ground, but it was not strength or resolution that kept me from faltering..." It had been fear, plain and simple in its truest form. She shook her head and brought up her hands to her face, trying to cover the hotness that had spilled over. "Wasn't it just a mirage that you and everyone else saw in me? Wasn't this all a mistake to begin with?"

If she had been a better knight, then surely she wouldn't have lost her sisters. If she had been strong, wouldn't her heart have been shielded from all the pain and suffering?

"They died for their ideals. They died entrusting their dreams to me. But what is dead will stay dead."

The touch on her hand was feather-light, and Cordelia almost jerked away. Cold fingers closed on her wrist, and he slowly pulled her hand away from her face. Robin was leaning in close, and on his eyes, she could see not pity or sympathy, but the same pain that was governing her senses; the same suffering that they both had endured at the loss of trusted comrades.

"None of us who still breathe may be able to do anything about that," he murmured. "We can, however, choose. Your choices have led you to be where you are here. And I admire that. You have been carrying the burden of their wishes without shame, without ever retreating a step back." The ever so subtle smile that played on his lips softened his eyes; his breath felt cool on her wet cheeks. "That is, to me, courage in itself."

Had it truly been courage...? When she had fled, when she had received the burden as a commander... When she had opened her heart to agony by letting go of what would never be hers...

"Being courageous does not grant immunity to pain," Robin said, seeing the doubts in her eyes. "You stood firm when others would have cowered in fear. You did not succumb to despair. I wish I had half of what you have... You just do not know how much you have shamed and inspired me just by being who you have always been."

Memories and emotions blurred into a hazy heat. Perhaps she had known...that it was not scorn that had been behind his attitude, but envy. She remembered how he had looked at her on the boat. She had thought him analyzing her then, measuring her worth as a pawn in his strategy board. But in truth, he may have tormented himself with thoughts of comparison, of what had he lacked, of what had he missed.

Little did he know that he had cast the same stone at her.

"Unfair," she croaked.

"Pardon?"

"You always steal my words."

He uncurled his fingers on her wrist, and Cordelia felt a pang of regret at the loss of his assuring touch. Robin stared at her with open disbelief. He did not make any remarks nor make any rebuttals, however, as he took her words in.

If her resilience had been the object of his envy, than the Grand Master's ability to forge bonds with those around him was hers. He was, in his own words, selfish, and she had spent her waking hours figuring out if that one trait most would look upon with disdain had been the key that she was missing.

"You said I should start to be more selfish…" To want something for herself; to want something just for the reason of fulfilling her needs. Did it take courage to be selfish, to speak up for herself and voicing her wants? "Then grant me two requests."

Robin foresaw the first one before she had to spell it. "Despite of what you think of me, I would carry an ally's secrets to my grave. Name the second."

Cordelia cast gaze eyes low, avoiding his—too afraid of what she would see and more fearful that her voice would die in her throat should she let those blue eyes trap her mind. She whispered her one-word wish, then, with a voice so small she could barely hear herself.

But Robin did.

Silently, he pulled her towards him. Cordelia shut her eyes as the world around her ceased. The cold air was replaced by his presence.

_Stay_.

Just for a while. Just until she could pick herself up and be the person he said he knew her to be.

His words may have painted her brave, but his touch and warmth made her feel vulnerable. And it was no longer threatening, the feeling; it was comforting. Immensely so. For she needed not to be perfect in front of him. She needed not her armor and lies in his hold.

On his shoulder, she could let her tears fall. Not for the deceased, no, but for herself.

And also for him, who had not let his fall when he had bidden his farewell.

Dawn was nearing, and more battles were waiting. But in this shared moment, everything was complete, everything was peaceful. The solidity of the arms that were shielding her from the ghosts of her past were the only thing that felt real. His heartbeat was a steady rhythm that beat in tandem with hers, a clockwork that shamed even time's unfaltering parade. Something in her heart grew and expanded, and she relished in the luxury that was foreign to her.

They were two starkly different people, yet very much alike. They were two broken souls who were drawing strength from each other. This…was a healing magic new to them both. And for the first time in her life, she felt whole. She felt understood.

She felt secure.

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\- T H E _ E N D -

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_**A/N**__: An Epilogue and a Bonus Chapter are coming soon. Thank you so much for reading this through the end—I am truly nothing without your support._

_LiamReyas, thank you so much! I'm glad to hear that it's not so mainstream :') Power woosh to you for finishing yours, friend! | Patient 0 Zero, I'm really touched and thankful to read such an insightful review such as yours. Since I'm still searching for a style that fits me well, your constructive words and analysis have immensely helped me to figure out my flaws and strengths as a writer. A big, big thank you cannot even possible to express my gratitude. | flamehead23a, it was an error on my side. I'm done revising the last two chapters, but have not tha time to revise the beginnings. I hope you'll excuse that. | patattack, thank you! I'm glad his dialogues came out well—I had quite some trouble writing them due to a severe writer's block :( | Puni Risacchan, Yes I'm considering it. Please do wait for it. | X0LDIER 1st Class, I guess because the game itself never really explains the mechanism thoroughly is why. | Seoungri, I hope this constitutes as one ;) | csihawk, thank you, always, for your kind and constructive wods! I hope this chapter answers your request, and if it does not, I'm sure the epilogue will ;) | pkmn2112, yes, many reviewers have kindly pointed that out, and I have not the time to revise all the chapters before chapter 14. Thank you! I was not sure I handed Chrom's characterisation well, but reading your review put me at ease. | Milla J J, yes, much needed energy-booster, thank you! | Ianthee, yes I am! | 5SecondsLater, I've revised chapter 14 but have not the time to revise the previous ones. Do forgive my errors. | Gallian Squad 7, I can't even tell you how loud my sigh of relief was upon reading your review. I'm glad the traits in her that I wanted to show came out well. Thank you so much! | Zack001, I hope this answers your prayers! I'm craving for a happy ending too! | arahabaki m3, give me some time, and I'll update it ASAP ;) | Shouhou Nn, I'm seriously thinking on making a oneshot, but time will tell. I'll definitely do it if I have enough time. I'm supporting TeamEmm too! | B4lk4n, why, thank you. I've not thought about my writing that way, but I'm glad you think so. _


	17. Epilogue

_**A/N: **This chapter contains stuff slightly above the rating of 'T.' This piece serves only as a complimentary to the story and ending, and by no means it is a mandatory for readers who are uncomfortable with the rating since conclusion to the overall plot could be drawn from the previous chapter alone._

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**Epilogue**

* * *

An exchange of vow between a man and a woman was an event worthy of celebration. It marked a new beginning for the two souls, who had now shared an oath before gods and men to share their days to come with each other. It marked the beginning of a new journey, of one that was no longer had to be taken alone.

Books and paintings had done a marvelous job at illustrating the special occasion in many different ways, and all of them depicted a lovely scene. But 'lovely' was not the word you would use when the lady was of royal blood. Just look at the setting in which the ceremony was conducted, at the white tapestries and fine linen adorning the castle walls that semi-circled the garden, at the red carpet that was sprawled on the perfectly mowned field, at the abundant servings of food and beverages, and you would think that 'grand' would be a more fitting term. A certain prince would disagree, however, since he had insisted for the party to be held as private as possible, and had done anything in his power to tone down the traditional-yet-lavish code in which all royal engagements were bound to be conducted.

It was, after all, mere days after Ylisse had secured victory against the Conquerer. A victory in itself was something that was worth a celebration, but no victory was ever attained without sacrifice.

The battle against Valm was a costly one with too much bloodshed and needless suffering. The alliance between Ylisse and Ferox may have won them a miracle, but souls that had perished along the way were not to be disregarded in favor of festivities. To honor them, the Prince of Ylisse had thought it wise to hold the event in private. This was not simply to respect the families who were mourning at the loss of their loved ones, but also a planned move to bid time for the Shepherds to prepare themselves for an impending clash against those who wished to secure the Fire Emblem for themselves. It explained the absence of a few Shepherds such as Frederick and Kellam who had been sent to search for the final Gemstone of power that was the gods' gift to complement the Shield which was Falchion's counterpart. Nevertheless, the dark clouds of a potential threat did little to suffuse the joy that was apparent on the couple's faces.

With the silver ring of promise now adorning her finger, Lissa's smile was more radiant than the setting sun. Beside her, Libra had a similar expression—something rare for the usually serene cleric—as he held his betrothed's hand high to be blessed by the master of ceremony. The old man in white robe raised his golden staff just above the couple's joined hands, and the soft music that had been accompanying them took up a notch.

White flower petals rained down upon them, and the audience cheered. Robin applauded along with the rest of the attendees.

"My, that was wonderful," Maribelle said.

"I'm just glad the flowers were thrown in time," Robin murmured to the woman beside him. His eyes had been glued to the balcony above the altar all this time, at the servants who had been tasked to the job. He had been fearful that they would somehow miss a beat or do some stupid mistake. It would, after all, take only one small error to mess everything up. Thank Naga they'd done well.

The couple stepped down from the altar and was immediately greeted by the royals who were the first in line to congratulate them. Libra, being the newest member into the commanding family of Ylisse, bowed in modesty at his betrothed's elder brother.

Maribelle gave him a sly smile. "You double-checked everything well. For that, I award you with a 'Good Job.'"

"A compliment from you, My Lady, is indeed an honor." Or more like a huge relief. For it meant he would not have to endure long hours of speech from the noble. He and Maribelle had worked nights and days to organize every scene accordingly, and it was hard, mind you, to keep up with her atrociously high standards. Being a perfectionist that she was, Maribelle was nothing but meticulous. She had practically taken everything into her hands—from deigning the basic concepts, event planning, and selecting the foods and drinks which would grace the tables—and had handpicked Robin to assist her in arranging everything into place. Intending on giving everything she got for her best friend's important day, she had doubled her effort and pushed Robin to do the same. "I could say the same to you," Robin added when he saw that the first person who approached the long tables of food and beverages was none other than Gaius. "He looks almost unrecognizable in a clean white suit."

Maribelle's smile instantly dropped. "You'd say otherwise if you knew just how many hours it took me to make him look presentable for this occasion. He's got a hygiene disorder, I swear."

Robin merely chuckled at that, not for the sake of agreeing to her point—which he did—but for the sake of respecting the fondness that gleamed on Maribelle's eyes. He did not know when exactly it had started developing, their mutual feelings, but he thought he had sensed something back when Gaius had forced him to appoint the Trickster as a member of the rescue party that had lain in wait for the Ladies after their exit from Fort Steiger.

"Well, then," Robin said, "now that the feast is on, I'll go join Gaius over there and enjoy the fruits of my labor."

Maribelle spared him a nod as she too ambled towards the line of people who were eager to salute the newly engaged couple.

Gaius was no longer alone by the time Robin took up a glass of wine for himself. Virion and Donnel were with him, though it seemed like the dark haired youth was too busy filling his plate with fruits and cakes to notice the other two men behind him. Virion raised his glass at Robin's approach. "Some memorable scenes, those were," he said. "I will be bound to hire you and Lady Maribelle for every party I'll be setting up from this day forward."

Robin raised his glass to meet Virion's. "Spare me. I'm having so few of an hour to sleep as it is."

"You know you can always commission somebody to brew you a sleeping potion," Gaius chimed in. Robin saw that there was already a small mountain of tarts and pies of various colors on the Trickster's plate. Give him an option between normal meals and sweets, and Gaius would always swing for the latter.

Virion shook his head. "And develop a new addiction aside from reading? I'm sure our Grand Master has his life complicated enough."

"That's very perceptive of you, Virion. But I'm sure my healthy obsession with books has more pros than cons." A sip from his glass, and he momentarily reveled himself in the rich taste of the wine. It had come from the best brewer in the land—Maribelle had made sure of it. "By the way, excuse me for saying this, but I'm not sure you can consume everything you've gathered there without upsetting your stomach, Donnel."

Glancing back with bulging cheeks, Donnel shook his head vigorously as he attempted to swallow his food in one go. "Nah, Rob, you don't stroll into a feast empty-plated, 'specially when it's the Princess'! Parties like this ain't happenin' everyday, y'know. 'Gotta be grateful for today' is what I'd say."

"Wise words," Virion said. He picked up a plate of pies from the table and offered it to Robin. "You've spent a lot of time preparing and you've yet to have a bite. Here."

Robin was about to put down his glass when someone bumped him from behind. The glass, still full of wine, slipped from his hand and the content splashed on the sleeve of his white coat.

"Oh, gods—!" A female servant quickly rearranged herself and bowed at Robin. I'm terribly sorry, Grand Master—I…"

"Ah, it's okay." The wine was dripping from his sleeve to his hand, and although a handkerchief that was swiftly produced by Virion was more than enough to wipe it off, the wet stain on his coat remained. The white tablecloth, however, miraculously survived unharmed, for the glass had tumbled straight to the grassy ground beneath. "Let's clean this little mess before we attract attention."

"Y-yes," the servant stuttered, and she moved to recover the fallen glass.

"Thank Naga we have grass instead of concrete floor," Virion huffed. He had strategically positioned himself behind the servant to block prying eyes, and Gaius was dragging Donnel to do the same.

"Truly." Robin glanced around and noted that apart from those standing close to them, nobody had noticed what had happened. "The shattering sound of a glass breaking might just awaken some inner demon in few."

"Your coat's ruined, though," Gaius noted. "Wanna exchange with mine?"

"I appreciate your offer. But I'll tempt not your Lady's anger. She has poured her all for this day. I can't bear for her to see her partner only in his shirt for the upcoming dance. I can simply disappear for a moment in search for a change of fresh clothes."

"You sure, Bubbles?"

"Yes. Just, please," he cast a look at Gaius and Virion, "take care of things while I'm away, will you?"

"We will." The former Valmese noble patted his arm lightly. "Go now and be back before the royals take notice of your absence."

A brisk walk brought him into the safety of castle walls, and he maintained the pace so that the few people whom he passed by would not have the chance to see the stark red that colored his sleeve, much less to inquire about it. An empty washroom was what he needed and found. A stall and water basins furnished the space, and Robin shrugged off his stained coat. The sweet wine had left his fingers sticky and he dipped his hand to the water in the basin to rinse it clean.

He let out a silent sigh as he felt tension that had constantly gripped his muscles oozed away, soothed by the refreshing feeling the cool water brought about.

Stupid as it was, he felt strangely grateful for the accident. It netted him some much-needed time to recollect himself and be away from people. Fatigue was catching up on him, and the strain on his neck had produced a steady beat that seemed to hammer on one side of his head in a consistent manner. Holy Naga, was he glad the trick to reduce swelling around his eyes by compressing them with bags of cold water had worked well. If not… Well. Going to a party he had organized himself with bloodshot eyes and dark bags under them was not the most proper, he believed Maribelle would say. But hells and damnation, he could not fool himself nor could he deny the migraine any longer.

He had been mostly awake for the past two days, and it had been not books or tactical boards or ancient scrolls which had kept sleep away from his clutch. It had been a recurring dream.

His reflection on the still water blinked owlishly, and so ever subtly, the tired blue eyes took in a color of the wine he had spilled. It took a form of a shadow that bore a face much like his own—a shadow which had frequented his dreams. '_We are made to rule, you and I_,' his reflection whispered.

Dimly he recalled Chrom's disturbed face and his warning of an oddity, of a person greatly bearing his resemblance that his friend had met in Validar's court. He'd thought it senseless then. It could be nothing more than a mere happenstance. Surely people with similar physical traits existed.

But then the dream came. And it took him to places he had not been, introduced him to a deity which existence he had first doubted. It painted a picture, clearer and clearer by each time it haunted him, of a descending dragon. It had scales as black as night, wings that outstretched the land, and three pairs of eyes that seemed to boast of power and claim over anything that they gazed upon.

The same eyes were now staring back at him. They looked like burning coals, and the gleaming orbs were reflecting a dark amusement Robin did not feel. _'Everything belongs to you,' _the voice—his own? The dragon's?—said. '_To us. Why ignore your purpose when it is much greater than your meager ambition to stay rooted in one place that may never be your home?'_

Robin removed his hand from the water, and the ripples distorted his reflected image. _Play your games_. _I wish never to partake in them_.

A hollow sound of a laughter echoed in the caverns of his mind. '_Enjoy your false peace as it lasts.'_ The voice then retreated, and silence enshrouded him like a wet blanket.

On the stall, he curled the fingers of his left hand until his nails dug deep into his palm. The pain was bearable. And he needed it. To bring him back to the present—to combat the sudden urge to scratch at the mark on the back of his right hand. It was overwhelming, the feeling of wanting to break free from himself. The dreams, the voice… It was as if they were trying to remind him of something he had left in a jagged puzzle that was his past. It was as if it wanted to wake him up from a dream which he had embraced as reality.

Pheros had been right to call him mad. He was. Or at least if he had not crossed the border of insanity yet, he was definitely treading towards it, and at a faster pace than he would like.

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. A familiar voice tentatively called out from the other side of the room. "Grand Master? Is everything alright?"

Robin shook his head and quickly splashed some water onto his face. It did little to chase away the lingering nausea, but it did help his eyes to refocus. He grabbed his coat from the stall and swung open the door.

"Lady Cordelia," he said in greeting towards the woman in front of him.

As the knightress nodded back in greeting, Robin could not help but to swallow her figure in. If once he had thought the absence of steel armor had magnified the red haired woman's natural beauty, certainly a wrap of white satin and a touch of makeup did much more to accentuate it. Fiery hair that was usually worn straight to answer the demand of efficiency her duty often required was now framing the delicate bone structure of her face in softly styled waves. Her choice of dress for this occassion was sleeveless, and he very much doubted the warer knew that the way its loose grip hinted at the curves of her waist was more alluring than something tight-fitting would have been.

"Is something the matter?" Robin asked, forcing his gaze to stay locked on hers.

"No," Cordelia said, "I just saw you half-running in the corridors mere moments after the feast had begun. I thought something might have happened." She made it a point to stare at the coat on the crook of his arm.

"Ah. It was just a little accident. Somebody bumped me from behind while I was holding a glass of wine."

The frown settling between perfectly trimmed eyebrows deepened. "It was not who I think it was… Was it?"

"No, it was not the Queen's doing; worry not," he chuckled. "She was standing quite afar from me to cause any collateral damage, and was too absorbed in showering the Princess with congratulations and praises."

"Your coat, though..."

Robin held it up to show the stain. "Yes, well... I may have to think about getting a replacement for this real fast."

"It is rare to see you caught off guard by a turn of events. The Grand Master I knew would have had a plan B or some sorts." A subtle smile curved her lips, and he was reminded of the days of their journey to Valm and back. There had been war looming over the horizon then, and so, whatever it was that they may have had had been forced to step down in priority against the impending threat that Walhart had posed. Once the Shepherds had returned home, things had moved far too quickly afterwards with the issue with Fire Emblem arising and Lissa's engagement. From that point on he had scarcely seen her and had less chance to talk about something that was not related to the battles ahead. And he found only now how he missed it.

"My mistake. I've failed to count the possibilities of a maid slipping on the grassy ground," he said, holding up his hands in defeat. "Speaking of which, I may also have failed to count a hundred more potential disasters."

The smile turned somewhere between impish and amused. "Like a sudden portal of Risen opening right above the gardens for instance?"

"Or one of Lucina's friends crashing in from another time. Or perhaps an earthquake, or an apocalypse altogether." He smiled when she quietly laughed, and the stiffness that had been pining his shoulders were quickly forgotten. "Imagination fueled by somber thoughts does not produce a miracle coat out of thin air, sadly."

Cordelia seemed to be thinking for a few moments, then said, "It sure does not. But I think I can procure one for you. The barracks are closer to this wing than the quarters. I suppose we can find a stash of spare coats belonging to the knights in one of the rooms."

Ah. Why hadn't he thought of it before? It must either be the wine or the damned hallucination. Either, or both, or maybe he was just growing senile or insane. He pushed the thoughts aside. "That is a great idea. You are truly a life saver, My Lady."

The flash of an uncertain smile was accompanied by a blush that colored her cheeks rosy red. Try as she might, hiding away her emotions and masking them were two of a short list of things that Robin knew the woman was undeniably poor at. Always too humble; always too blind or simply uncaring at people's high regard for her.

"They will be uniformed, though," she added. "Will that be fine with you?"

"I do not mind wearing a standard issue piece of clothing. A clean uniformed coat is way better than a stained one—no matter how high-priced is the latter. If I can distance myself from Lady Maribelle's wrath and people's raised brows, I will live."

"Well, then, I will lead you there."

Robin nodded his thanks and followed her.

"Strange I did not see you at the ceremony before," he mused aloud as they descended the stairs that were leading away from the west wing where the gardens were.

"I went into the kitchens as soon as the Princess received the priest's blessings."

"To check on the food and everything, I presume?"

"Ah—well, yes," she said, turning her eyes away indecisively from the steps to the windows that lined the wall and back.

"How very like you to keep an eye on everything. It makes me feel I'm not doing a good job as an organizer though."

"Oh, no—I did not—" Seeing the smile on his face, Cordelia paused, and he laughed. She heaved a sigh, but beginnings of a smile were already teasing the ends of her mouth. "Perhaps I should have let the chefs and servants drip something venomous into the soup or the wine after all."

"Oh, were they intending to?"

The glint on her eyes turned playful. "You may never know who is trying to in these times."

"It's nice to know we have a cleric as part of the royal family, then. It saves much time and work should there be a case of poisoning within the castle."

She laughed as well, and too soon they had arrived at a square room that was filled with dark wooden wardrobes. Two windows adorned the space, and a brown carpet was sprawled on the stone floor, painting the room in a rich hue of umber. Cordelia opened one of the wardrobes and inspected the content, rummaging at a neat stack of clothing.

Robin went to open a wardrobe next to the one that she was inspecting, and he had to will his eyes to stay glued to the window rather than at the partially exposed skin of Cordelia's back.

After some fumbling and wrong wardrobes that contained clothing materials ranging from belts to plaid kilts, they found one that had stacks of gray coats in it. Cordelia pulled out two identical coats with black trimmings and white buttons adorning it. A knight's official wear when not in combat or patrolling duties, Robin realized. "Will these be fine with you?"

"Perfectly," he said, taking the coats from her. He discarded his own to an empty chair and tried both one by one. The first one was slightly too small and pressing around the shoulders, and the second one a tad bit too large.

Cordelia was already digging for another one that was closer to his size. "I'm not sure how this will do… Ah. Here." She gave him a new piece, and this time, it fell perfectly well on his figure.

"This one fits nicely. Whatever you mean by you being not sure?"

"I just thought that the color made you look paler is all."

He forced a smile that he hoped was convincing enough to pass as teasing or jovial. "Do I really look _that_ pale? Would people come and ask what my skin regimen is should I wear gray more often?"

She did not share his smile. Instead, a look of concern shadowed her eyes. "I may be a less-capable pretender compared to you, but please do not overexert yourself and state that you are fine when you feel otherwise."

He stared mutely at her, unblinking, and feeling the cold clutch of an invisible hand around his heart.

"You only need to say if you ever need something. If you see this as a part of me being selfish, then know that I simply wish to help," she said. There was a flash of pain that crossed over the ruby orbs, as fast as a lightning. Cordelia seemed to realize a second too late what she had let loose, and she promptly tried to assuage it by throwing her gaze sideways and tucking strands of hair behind one ear—a gesture of rectification of hers that was too familiar to him. "Ah—I…may not be able to do much… And I'm sorry for speaking my mind aloud like that…" She hastily turned to the stacks of coats behind her, looking at all too eager to distract herself. "A mess I've made. Do wait one bit, I'll sort these back to how they were before..."

She was probably murmuring something else, some nonsense whatsoever that Robin was no longer listening to. He was looking at the back that he had so often glimpsed, the back that he thought made for a lonely sight. Without the protection of steel armor the shoulders looked frail, vulnerable.

He remembered how she had looked that night, on the broken remnants of a watchtower; she had looked so determined to be strong, so afraid that the world would disarm her of every achievement she had made in the name of her deceased sisters. She had been broken and shut-off from the world, much like how he had been. He had wondered then, had even feared, if the invisible burden she imposed on herself would break her completely. It had as she had shown him in the plains after their escape, and it was then he realized that what he had been seeing in her was a reflection of his own malady.

Now, the opposite was true.

Haunted by the dream, he had let his own insecurities eat at him. He had unknowingly pushed all thoughts of help aside, fearing that they would find out something about him that he had no answer to give. Had he shielded himself from the world? Had he piled more lies?

With long strides he closed the gap between them. She turned when she felt him near, and Robin closed the wardrobe door while gripping slender arm with the other.

There was disbelieving surprise that was coloring her expression, and a good mixture of uncertain yearning that might have borne of either instinct or feelings. Which, he did not care as of yet. He had been hiding, all this time. When playing hide and seek had failed him, he'd lied. He would succumb to neither options now.

"Grand Master—wh—"

Her words were left unfinished as he brought his lips to hers.

* * *

\- A -

* * *

She should not have spoken, should not have opened her mouth at all.

It seemed like every time her feelings were thrown into the mix, thoughts and words would only serve to make a fool of herself. She had to learn to be quiet, to once again take a step back and turn towards a single path of servitude she had known for life.

It was foolish, as much as it was futile. She knew. And yet there was no stopping to the ache that was drumming in her chest like a second heartbeat.

She registered his presence closing in on her a little bit too late. He came close, and the sudden claim of his hand on her arm sent her heart leaping. There were a very few things that she could make out on his looming stature that was caging her against the wooden furniture behind, but the most prominent was the eyes that looked as if they were focused and distracted both at the same time. Some words may have escaped her—she could not have known nor remembered.

Those dark blue eyes, the same eyes that had held her captive at that night when they had first opened their differing worlds to each other, went to half-mast when he inched closer. She no longer saw then, only felt, when his hand nudged her chin up, and his lips went to cover hers.

All thoughts within her head stopped as the world came to an abrupt halt. His kiss kindled a thousand senses.

He tasted as sweet as the wine he must have sipped. It was making her heady, and she lost all grip on everything but him. So little of a movement, a silent probe, and the knots that had been ever-present inside of her throughout the time spent with him were dissolving into a warmth that weakened her knees and threatened to pull her under.

"My apologies," he said, pulling away ever so slightly. His breath felt warm on her face. "To stray off a plan like this was never my intention."

She looked up at him, slanting a cautious glance at his features which were rendered even more starkly masculine in the light of the setting sun that poured from the window.

The stroke of his thumb over tingling lips was doing a poor job in placating her from wanting his own to recapture them. "I simply tire of fooling myself and feeling helpless on how I feel when I see you," he murmured. "You intrigued me. You always have. There is more than your beauty and resolution that drew me in—there seems to be always something more. The more I thought about it, the more confusion clouded my mind. I retreated in defense, ran to a more familiar place that was envy. For long it had been that way. I chose then to accept the simple fact that I want to know more about you."

Her heart contracted, not at just their proximity and words, but at the emotions that were open for her to see on his usually guarded gaze. She had always wondered what thoughts were swirling in his mind, what was he feeling beneath the placid exterior. It had been a losing game. But in this moment, it all changed.

It was as though he was putting down all walls that he had built around him, setting aside the persona of a tactician that he seemed to have no choice but to don after being plunged into an alien world that was full of strife. There was that unmistakable look of longing that softened the lines of his face. But the most unexpected was the silent hope reflected on the cobalt blue orbs. It was there, so plain to see and was hers alone to answer.

Long fingers moved over her cheek, and Cordelia shuddered at the sensation. "It has not been nearly enough," he was saying, "for the moment I realized that, I thought of more, and it became an endless circle that the logical side of me tried to trap me in."

She dared herself to speak then, though she distrusted her own voice. "And this..."

"...Is my way of breaking the loop. I have wondered about a world without war, an era where peace reigns for years. Within one that has fire and chaos plaguing it, I know my place as a tactician. Within one that has none of such misery I could only think of you." His gaze dropped down to her lips, and she thought she saw him fighting some internal conflict before they traveled up to meet hers again. "I apologize if I have burdened you in any way."

He was offering her something… Something that both instinct and experience had taught her held a force to destroy should it be taken back. And yet his hold on her lacked firmness. '_Be rid of me if you wish_,' it seemed to say.

"Don't apologize."

Robin looked up sharply at her, keen eyes moved automatically to search for any trace of negation or anything of the likes on her face. He would find none.

"If it is like you said…" she breathed, trying to smooth out the raw edges of her voice, "then you need not apologize."

There was first understanding in those blue eyes, and then relief. For she too once had felt apologetic, and knew just how painful it was to be confined within its bounds. Slowly, it all morphed into an emotion that was also welling up inside her—an emotion that had been vaguely foreign to her once.

Robin pulled her closer, and as their bodies touched, she finally recognized it for what it was.

Back in their traveling days, she had falsely labeled it as curiosity. Or it may have been just that. But overtime it had slowly changed in form into something that she was afraid to put into words. It heightened her awareness of him whenever he was around. And whenever he was not, it would lure her thoughts to drift, first to the words he'd said in the rocky plains, then to their shared moment at Fort Steiger, and finally at the many possibilities that she was fearful of imagining.

But she would ponder about it no more—she would not go the lengths of even naming it. She knew what she wanted, she opened herself to a fierce longing that rushed through her veins and swept away all her worries.

_No more hiding_.

"The place you envisioned me in..." _By his side, sharing in his joy and sadness..._ It was no longer a daunting task to look into the depths of his eyes now, into the hues that had the color of a night sky. She latched her hand atop his, softly pressing it against her cheek. "…Take me there."

He had changed her world when he'd come. And she would give the world for him to stay.

One hand was slowly sliding over the length of her bare arm, the ghost of his trace leaving a trail of electricity on her skin. The hand found hers, and he splayed over her fingers and entwined them together. It was a simple movement, not designed to provoke her feminine senses. In it she could feel his sincerity. She could feel that he was letting her know that she was precious, that in his eyes, she was a woman, and a trusted ally before a knight or anything else.

Robin dragged their twined hands to his lips, and so very gently pressed them against her knuckles. Tender. Unhurried. Loving. …He was letting her have a foretaste of what he thought she deserved in his vision for the future, nothing less.

In the past, love and affection had brought her only misery and hurt. She expected that they would once again return with the same accursed gifts. It was natural, she had thought, to be on the receiving end of all kinds of torment of the heart. So, when Robin came to her, it was both surprising and elating to find that this was not the same case.

Cold lips grazed hers then, and she was taken aback at how such a gesture of intimacy could ignite a deeper craving within. There was no suppressing of the heat that was roiling up in her belly, nor was she able to deny herself of the rush of excitement that spread in her system like poison when he plied her lips open.

Some instinct of her own demanded her due; on their own volition her hands moved to his broad shoulders, to his neck, to feel the heavy beat that pulsed against flushed skin. It beat in a heavy cadence, and the muscles on his torso went taut as her questing fingers skimmed over the length of his nape.

"Do me a favor," Robin murmured as he was moving to bury his nose in her hair. His warm breath was sending a quiver of anticipation cascading over her. "Call me by my name."

Had she never…?

…No. Duty and standings had always stood between them. And when they had stepped aside, there had been war. There was neither of those right now.

"_Robin_."

It rolled out easily off her tongue, like it was the most natural thing to say. It ran through her mind and left her lips as though it was the only word she knew, and in the moment, with his arms around her and the searing heat between them, it might as well be.

She felt his growing smile against a sensitive spot on the crook of her neck, and he nuzzled it. Cordelia may have let a sharp breath escape her or given him some other tell-tale sign at the unexpected point of pleasure of his discovery, for he acknowledged it by tending to it more to accommodate the need that was building up in a dangerously rapid pace within her.

They had touched numerous of times in their travel. All of them had borne out of necessity, whether in a heated combat, wild flight, or times of other life-threatening needs that called for immediate attention.

_This_…was different.

This was deliberate; intentional. Purposeful.

It was a foreign way of loving for her as well—one that made her want more each time he gave, one that would elicit a sensation so close to pain and yet so exquisite that she yearned for him to never stop.

And stop he did not. A fluttery caress at her side and a soft nudge for her to fully meet the planes of his physique was an invitation she did not resist. _Could _not, what thoughts left in her mind whispered as her body involuntarily answered to his ministrations by arching, if only to give more of itself to the man who was holding her. To be wanted by somebody… To be longed for this much by _him_ was something that had never come upon her dreams.

…Or perhaps the notion had indeed come, once or twice, not in the form of dreams, but bashful imaginings that would seep into her mind whenever she'd lost herself in an aimless wonder of how magical it would be to have her feelings reciprocated. She had stood on the wrong end of the game for too long that she had forgotten how it felt to want. She relished in the liberating feeling to have the bleak starvation that had mounted for long be satisfied.

Only when her own yearning surged she feared the magnitude of it.

It needed only a small fire to start a wild blaze. And with this kind of fire, she had little idea on what havoc it would bring about.

"No such thoughts, My Lady," Robin said, as if sensing her sudden hesitation. "I'm going by your instruction on not apologizing for my actions."

"I—"

He pressed another kiss, closer to the base of her throat, and it jolted her, making the air trapped in her constricted lungs went from her in a stifled gasp. Assaulting sensations were pushing away any semblance of logic, making breathing a laborious task and thinking all the way more impossible. It did not help that silky satin made for a poor barrier against the hand that was placed on the small of her back—a hand that was gliding close to where she wished it to be. "Go by mine: be not troubled with wanting something for yourself."

He used the wrong term with 'something,' but before her dazzled mind could guide her to properly respond, he already returned to claim her lips. It was no longer a slow, deliberate dance. Robin angled his head, deepening the kiss, and all thoughts evaporated.

Her senses were clamoring for fulfillment of the desires she never knew existed—desires that woke with every point of contact they made.

He lay claim on her the way no man had ever done before. Cordelia clung to his bigger frame, needing his strength to sustain her and guide them both through uncharted waters. She needed not to wrestle her fears this time. This was a territory where only instincts may govern. So she adhered to it, and just..._felt_: his adoration that was not relayed with words, and a thousand of other things that were meant to be communicated through physical touch.

It was maddening.

Robin gently pushed her back against the wardrobe behind her, and he shifted his weight to one leg, pulling her impossibly closer until all she could do was to lean all of her on his. Gravity molded their bodies together into a perfect fit; the hand on her back—dangerously low—applied pressure. A shuddering wave spiraled in a tight coil insider her. Brilliant white sparks whiplashed behind closed lids, then the wave pulsed out in quaking currents that drove out the air in her lungs, leaving her totally defenseless against the rush of blind delight that was overtaking her whole.

* * *

\- A -

* * *

Time was a nonexistent thing in the silence that followed.

The sun had almost dipped into disappearance, its glimmer of light fading while darkness had slowly crept to shade them both in its reign. The sound of music, distant and melodious, started to waft in the air. With it, came the world surrounding them. The carpeted floor below them, which had felt as though it were a deck of a swaying ship that was tossed by the wind, steadied.

She lay limp after she'd come apart in his arms. She let her head rest upon his shoulder, and could only listen to the fast beating of her heart and his own as coherent thoughts returned ever so slowly.

"The dance has begun," Robin said, moving slightly to prop them both up a little straighter. He planted a kiss on the crown of her head. "For making you late, I offer my apologies."

She looked at him and traced a lazy hand on his jaw. A hazy, warm feeling bloomed as he inclined to her touch. "I should be the one offering mine. Are you not the organizer of the celebration?"

"I'm sure they can survive ten minutes or so without me."

It was obvious that they were both lingering. Coming outside of the room, returning to the world and back into a reality where there were more than the two of them was a notion most unappealing.

With more effort than she dared to admit, she drew away from him. Strength had somewhat returned to her and was just enough for her to stand on her own two feet. She sensed that his eyes were still glued on hers, that he had been studying her for a while now. She cast an inquiring look at him.

Color must have tinted her cheeks for Robin let out a deep chuckle. "I was just thinking that there is another advantage in having a cleric close by." His eyes glinted with humor. "I'm talking about the many suitors of yours that might want to play dirty to push away other competitors."

Cordelia resisted the urge to laugh. "I'm sure you can think of a strategy to best them."

"A few did come to mind," he said as he smoothed her hair and tingled her still over-sensitive skin. "All require more effort from you than myself, though."

She did laugh then, and she loved how he could entice her laughter as easily as he did her senses.

They kissed again, long and slow, appraising each other as one would a glass of fine liquor. She relished in the promise of more as they drew apart, stilling her heart into contentment at the knowledge that the loss she felt from parting with him would be momentary.

Robin walked to a chair where he had deposited his coat. He picked it up and opened the door leading out to the hallway. "'Best to be out and about now lest we miss the dance."

"…Name."

Robin turned around and stared at her. "Hm?"

Warmth had returned again to her cheeks, and she prayed that her voice would not falter now. "You told me to call you by your name," she was slowly saying. "It will be unfair should you not treat me the same."

He blinked and was silent for a short while. Then a smile, tender and fond, grew as he reached out a hand towards her. "Pardon, Cordelia. Shall we be on our way now?"

* * *

\- x x x -

* * *

_**A/N:** Thank you again for seeing 'BLAMED' through the epilogue. It took a long while for me to write and complete this epilogue, and only the Bonus Chapter is left now. I hope this chapter is a satisfactory to all Cordelia and Robin shippers here (and I hope I have not crossed any lines)… Now… On to reviews!_

_Gallian Squad 7: I think you read my mind. Thank you for always supporting every new chapter, and I'm glad you found the addictive brewery that is writing! | Blue masked raider: There it is, friend! | AStampedeOfChickens: Cheers to you too! Happy to hear that from you. | pkmn2112: Always so kind of you to leave a full, insightful review! Chrom has been one of the hardest characters to write for me, partially because I've had so few of a chance to write a character like him before, and partially because of his dialogues in the game that got me really thinking of what is going on in the dude's head. Thank you again for your kind and sweet words! They really made my day. | csihawk: I'm relieved to know that the characters do not stray off their canon personas—it has always been a challenge to balance that out in a non-AU fanfiction ;( | Patient 0 Zero: Endings have always been somewhat of a homework for me to work upon, so I'm glad you found it satisfactory. Thank you, always, for enlightening me of the many points of improvement! I needed that! | EuclidWriter: Thank you for your kind words! Distinctive was something I aimed for when planning and writing this, but I'm glad you saw it as such all the same! | SchattenSoldat08: My writing has been called many things but never 'sexy.' I'm very surprised (and happy) to read that! | Spiner909: Glad you found it that way! | Narzz: It's also good to see you again, friend! Thank you so much for your encouraging words. I will strive to always keep my muse healthy and fit! | BlooperFiction: Your review opened my eyes to many points and gave my many insightful hints, and for that I thank you so, so much! I'm glad readers could pick upon the concept of a relationship between them and depicted its evolution as the story went It always gladdens me to see someone who points that out to me—it sure makes my muse less insecure for it thought it had done a so-so job at conveying the gradual changes… | iCaelum: Bravo to you too! Thank you for liking the fic. | L-Gardo-S: Thank you! And here it is~ | Gildoof: I'm thinking about that really seriously now, friend. | Kitsuko114: Kudos to you too for sticking by this fic so far :") I really appreciate it! | cobre death: Ahaha. My heart turns to mush to upon writing and re-reading their support and summer scramble conversations for materials. | DedicatedReader: Whoa, your thorough reviews took me by surprise…! I am deeply thankful to read each and every comment and thought you wrote—it truly has become a source of energy to heal my muse after a rough month :') I am beyond happy to know that you found the scenes to be clear (I've always struggled with it). I can't thank you enough for your support!_


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